“She,” I answer succinctly.
“She’s my hero too!” Stevie moves to stand next to me. “I want to be a singer. Maybe one day someone will put some money in my guitar case when I sing for them.”
“You play the piano and the drums,” Sinclair points out.
That sends Stevie’s hands to her hips again. “For now. I’m going to start guitar lessons when I’m ten.”
Sinclair pats my chest. “Good luck with that, Berk.”
I glance down at the red stain she left in the middle of my light blue button-down shirt. “Thanks, Sin. I sure as hell hope this tomato sauce you’re cooking is worth the mess you’re making.”
“You swore,” my sister and daughter say in unison.
Stevie follows that up exactly as I expect her to. “You owe one hundred dollars to our fund, Dad.”
Our fund.
Shortly after Layna died, her parents and I launched The Layna Morgan Foundation. It’s a charity based in Boston that helps women battling cancer.
My family stepped up by creating a swear fund to increase our annual donations. Whenever any of us curse, we commit a hundred dollars to the cause.
I bend down to tweak Stevie’s chin with my fingers. “Noted. I’ll pay up.”
“Is it time to eat?” she asks Sinclair. “I’m starving.”
“It’s time.” Sinclair takes her hand. “There’s a bottle of sparkling apple juice in the fridge. We can toast to your dad being a hero.”
“From the fancy champagne glasses?” Stevie bounces in place.
“You bet.” My sister glances at me. “I noticed a bottle of wine in there if you want a glass of that.”
“Juice works for me.” I trail behind them as they make their way to the kitchen.
“Hey, Daddy!” Stevie suddenly turns to face me. “What was the singer’s name? The lady who found my key, what’s her name?”
“Astrid.”
“Astrid?” Stevie draws the name out. “That’s pretty. Is she?”
“Pretty?” I question as I hold back a smile.
Stevie nods.
“She is,” I say softly. “Astrid Rehn is very pretty.”
My sister wiggles her brows, but before she can open her mouth and say a word about how it’s time I start dating, I shoot her a look meant to keep her quiet.
She takes the hint, turns back around, and skips to the kitchen, holding tightly to my little girl’s hand.
Chapter Six
Astrid
“That cute little gold key is gone.” Eloise slams the drawer behind the checkout counter shut. “Did someone come to claim it?”
I glance in her direction to find her leaning over the counter so she can get a better view of where I’m standing.
I step a few inches forward to make eye contact with her. “I found that key over a week ago. I can’t believe you remember it.”
She laughs. “I was thinking of attaching it to my zipper pull. I’ve been bouncing some ideas around about sweater accessories.”
Eloise is always dreaming up something new to add to her pieces. In the middle of summer, she wanted me to model a pale pink knitted sweater with denim patches. Months before that, I posed for pictures wearing a yellow hat with a blue crocheted flower on the brim. Both of those one-of-a-kind designs sold from her Etsy store within hours after she posted them.
“The owner of that key came to get it,” I tell her, then correct myself. “Actually, it was the father of the owner of that key.”
“The father?”
I swipe the feather duster in my hand over one of the wooden record stands. “The father of a little girl. It’s the key to her diary.”
“Single father or married father?” she quizzes with a bounce of her eyebrows.
“That was none of my business.”
“Was this single or maybe married father hot?”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Very, but why are we discussing this?”
She rounds the counter in a rush and heads straight for me. “How did he know where to find you?”
“Didn’t I ask you a question first?” I set the duster down. “Why are we discussing this?”
“Why not?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “He went back to the spot where I was when he accidentally tossed his daughter’s key in my guitar case. Someone there told him where to find me.”
She tucks both hands in the pockets of the blue sweater she’s wearing. “Is the hot father also the handsome stranger you told me about? Are they one and the same?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Her entire face lights up with a smile. “This story is getting good.”
“That story is over. He picked up the key and left.” I point at the cardboard boxes in the corner. “We need to get through all of those today.”
“You bought more records at an online auction?”
I laugh. “At an online estate sale.”
She leans back on her heels. “It looks like we have our work cut out for us.”
“After you.” I motion toward the boxes.
She lets out an extended, exaggerated sigh. “You are going back to busk at the same subway stop where Hot Dad saw you, right? Tell me you are because he might be single, and this could be love at third sight if you run into him again.”