Second Chance at the Riverview Inn (Riverview Inn)

“What are you guys laughing about?” he asked, and she got the impression that he loved that they were getting along so well. It was a nice feeling when people you liked liked each other, proving your taste in people was good.

“Danny just said Band of Outlaws was like an arranged marriage,” she said. “Because that song was such a hit so fast and now you have to be together.”

“For the sake of the kids,” Danny said.

“To keep up appearances.”

“Did you guys drink more sake?” Micah asked, like he was confused.

“No!” Danny said. “But that is an excellent idea.”

“You want me to take out some guitars?” Micah asked.

“Another excellent idea!” Danny said, they were like two boys building a ramp for their bikes. “Can you play the harmonica?” Danny was looking at Helen when he asked that question.

“Me? No.”

“Tambourine?”

“Probably not.”

“How about that tuba?” Micah asked.

He was joking with her. There was a lightness to him that made him almost unrecognizable. Like, he was always flirting, but there was an old-hand feel to it. This was strangely joyful, as if they were inside a million little jokes.

She hadn’t felt this way outside of her family in three long years.

“The tuba doesn’t work,” Danny said.

“That’s too bad,” she said. “I’m very good on a tuba.”

“Really?” Danny asked, all hope.

“She’s kidding,” Micah sighed dramatically and took two acoustic guitars out to the fire.

“Here,” Danny said and started loading Helen up with dishes and forks. “I’ve never seen him like this,” he murmured.

“Like what?”

“This happy. He’s like a kid. He never acts like a kid.”

She felt herself blushing and wanting to believe something that could not be true. That he was happy because of her. It just didn’t make sense. Before lockdown he’d been dating supermodels. And it wasn’t just about beauty—she wasn’t some kind of nightmare to look at—it was about a big, glamorous life.

And she had nothing to offer in that world.

“I’m glad he finally worked up the nerve to call you,” he said.

“What?” she asked. “Worked up what nerve?”

Danny blinked at her, a dollop of risotto slipping from the spoon into the bowl. And he looked very very guilty. “Please forget I said that.”

Micah opened the screen door and pushed his head in, bringing with him the smell of smoke and lake. “Come on. These instruments aren’t going to play themselves.”

“And this risotto isn’t going to eat itself,” Danny said. Helen had no choice but to follow them out to the firepit.

What Danny had said felt like something she needed to get to the bottom of, but the fire was spectacular against the indigo night. The air was just that right amount of cool. And the risotto was warm and smelled delicious.

And it didn’t really seem to matter right then.

There were three Adirondack chairs and she took the one that didn’t have a guitar resting in it. Micah and Danny wolfed down their food like teenage boys and put down their bowls so they could pick up their guitars.

She ate with a bit more decorum, and whatever she’d expected when they started to play, it didn’t come close to the reality. They sang songs by the Beatles and Van Morrison. Danny had a fabulous take on a Prince song. He rearranged a Shawn Mendes tune so it was punk rock.

“Okay,” Micah said. “Try and guess this one.” He started to play a song that sounded like classical music and looked at both of them. “Nothing?”

She was never going to be good at this game, but then a note hit her and she laughed. “It’s that Billie Eilish song.”

“Give the girl a prize,” he said.

It was a beautiful night. A beautiful fire and the music…she was never going to do this justice when she told Jonah about it. It felt like she was getting something so special, so rare. Not just the music, but this version of Micah. She thought of all those magazine articles and the slick photo spreads. Him and his brother, looking stern and rock and roll. She’d known he was charming in an awe-shucks kind of way; she’d seen the interviews on Ellen and Jimmy Fallon.

But he was smart. And he was engaged. And just like the fire in front of them, he sent out sparks. That must have been what made him a rock star—the sparks.

She took her phone out of her pocket and Micah stopped playing, the guitar notes cut off with a jangle.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and it dawned on her that he thought she was recording this.

“I’m just…I’m texting my mom. Letting her know I won’t be home tonight. I swear, I’m not…I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” he said and looked chagrined. “I’m sorry. Just…habit.” It occurred to her that this was rare for him, too. And that made it even more special.

I won’t be home tonight, she wrote. And then put her phone in her pocket and settled back against the chair.