Famous in a Small Town

Lots of eyes turned our way and several people cheered. Of all the songs for someone to choose to play.

Oh, shit.

“It’s fine,” he told the tabletop.

While it wasn’t my business to tell him how to manage his grief, avoiding his dead wife wasn’t going to work. Obviously. Smith had dabbled in exposure therapy when he’d visited and it had seemed to help Garrett.

“Your voices really complemented each other,” I said, softly. “Haven’t heard this one in a while.”

He grunted. Then he shoved a taco in his mouth.

“You didn’t do many songs together, did you?”

He swallowed and washed it down with water. “No. Not many.”

I kept on playing with the straw in my drink.

“Grace was a perfectionist.” He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. “We drove each other fucking crazy in the recording studio. She’d do take after take after take. Be there till four in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, I like to get things right. But she just didn’t know when to stop. It was better if we didn’t work together outside of touring and writing together now and then. But yeah . . . we recorded a couple of songs.”

“How did you meet?” I asked.

“She was doing a festival with a friend. Went backstage to say hello and there she was. Took her a while to agree to give me a chance. She’d sworn off dating people in the industry. Can’t really blame her.”

I smiled.

He picked up another taco.

“That’s two pieces of personal information,” I said. “I owe you.”

He narrowed his gaze on me. “When was the last time you dated, Ani?”

“The last time I was with someone was before I left L.A., four years ago.”

“What did they do to turn you off dating?”

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. Which was awkward.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No. No, I’m going to.” I took another sip of my drink and got the words straight in my head. “What happened was, I went through some bad times. He got bored of me being down. I wasn’t fun anymore, you know? He told me to shake it off.”

“What did you do?”

“I shook him off instead.”

“Good,” he said.

The duet with Grace ended and another song started. Garrett sat back, the tension easing out of him. You could see it in the lines of his face and the set of his broad shoulders. He turned to me and said, “My turn again. Got any questions you want to ask?”

“I think this works best when you choose what you’re comfortable telling me.”

“You might have a point.”

On the dance floor, Magda and her second husband, Ross, were getting down to Aretha Franklin. The smiles on their faces were wide. Garrett watched them in silence for a moment.

“Ross works in logging,” I said, nodding at the tall silver-haired man. “He and Magda got married a little over a year after her first husband died in a car accident. I remember the gossip going around town about it at the time.”

He nodded.

“She and her first husband had been childhood sweethearts. She was devastated when he died. But then Ross came along and he made her so happy,” I said. “It was like she was willing to try living again. To give the world another chance even though it had kicked her in the ass and then some.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. “I didn’t think I’d ever get married. Nothing against the institution, it just wasn’t for me. Settle down and the party stops. Who the hell would want that? Then I met Grace.”

The wistful tone in his deep voice made my smile falter. And something sharp and ugly twisted inside of my chest. I was jealous of a dead woman. How fucked up was that?

“What about you?”

“Um. Yeah, no. I won’t even date, so I’m thinking the chances of marital bliss are pretty slim.”

“Hmm.” His gaze slid over me again. “You look nice, Ani. But then you always look nice.”

“Thank you.” I tried smiling again. “Actually, I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“I know you said something about Grace liking the idea of Wildwood for your retirement or whatever. But why did you decide to come here after your travels?”

He sighed. “The answer is involved.”

I just waited and let him decide if he wanted to talk about it or not.

“It took a while to accept she was gone. Then even longer to figure out a way to be here without her. Something like that happens and you know life is never going to be the same again. But eventually it might be different and okay. Being in places where she hadn’t been seemed easier.”

“She never came to see the house?”

“Nope,” he said. “The house was her dream of a quiet life for us. Away from work and L.A. and everything. She wanted a big old Victorian surrounded by trees and mountains. Bought it based on photos alone. It occurred to me that it might be a good place for me to hole up for a while. Then Smith came up and brought Gene with him and invited you over . . . and here we are.”