Fresh Ice (9 page)

As if she’d spoken some magic words, Collier’s interest in his pen vaporized and he fixed his eyes on her. “Don’t say that. Don’t tell me that.”

Izzy took a deep breath. “Well, you were. I don’t regret Jenna. She’s wonderful. But,” she took a drink of her wine.
Change the subject.
“But everything else was a long time ago.”

“It was.” Collier’s voice was soft, gentle, but his tight expression didn’t ease.

Seriously, change the subject.
“So what’s with all the notebooks?”

The intense light in his eyes faded. Collier relaxed and smiled. “I’m a bit of a songwriter now.”

“Really? That’s great. I knew you’d do something creative.”

“Well, writing, you know, is sort of therapeutic.” He waved his hand at the stack of spiral notebooks. “I can pour my soul out and solve all sorts of problems through my songs, and get paid a little in the process.”

“So what kind of music do you write?”

Collier shrugged. “I’m what you’d call a traveling minstrel.”

“I’m not sure I know what that means.”

Collier reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a CD. “I’m in a group that travels around and sings at Renaissance Fairs and things like that. Old sailing songs, drinking songs, whatever sounds right for the whole Renaissance thing.”

Izzy took the CD from his hand and studied it. “That sounds sort of cool.”

“It pays the bills, and we have fun. On our down time we get to play cover songs and some original stuff at places like this. Chance,” he nodded toward the bar, “lets us play all the time. Maybe you saw us last night?”

The hopeful tone in Collier’s voice tugged at Izzy’s heart. “I’m sorry. I must have missed you. I was here later in the evening.” She handed the CD back to him.

“No, keep it.”

“Really? Thanks!”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
Too many years, too much to talk about and neither of us knows how to start.

“I did see that Quinn guy get up on stage. What’s his deal?”

A shadow passed over Collier’s face. “I suppose you would wonder about him. Every woman does.”

What could he possibly have against Quinn Murray?

“The guy’s a complete hound. There aren’t many women in this town who don’t have his paw prints somewhere on their person.”

“Oh, okay. I was just wondering, because…”

“Because he’s hot?”

Izzy laughed out loud and this time the tension between them thawed. “Col, this is so great catching up with you. I can’t believe I just wandered in here and here you are. I could talk to you all night!”

“Don’t you have friends you’re waiting for?”

Friends? What…oh, right.
“No, don’t worry about that. I-I’ll just…oh whatever.” She giggled.

“I have an idea.” Collier laid some bills on the table. “My band’s got a gig out of town tomorrow night, and I have to leave in the morning, but the night is ours. How about coming to dinner with me, Miss Izzy…Masters?”

“Marks. Izzy Marks.”

“Ah. Miss Izzy Marks come on. An evening of good food, and recalling good times. Are you up to the challenge?”

Izzy took his hand and stood. “I believe I am.”

Collier draped his arm over her shoulders as they left Second Chance’s.

***

Quinn wasn’t surprised to find himself standing in the lower foyer of Second Chance’s. What surprised him was the cozy couple leaving as he entered.

Was that Isabella? Was that Isabella Landry leaving with a man?

Who was that guy? That looked like that sad singer from last night.

A wave of jealousy washed over him. For a heartbeat, he considered following them. Thinking the better of it, he climbed the stairs.
I’ve got her on the brain. That was probably nobody. I’m seeing things.

A strong Scotch would take care of that.

But a good strong Scotch would create a lot more problems than just seeing someone who looks like Isabella Landry.

“Hey, Chance. How are ya?”

“Quinn!” Chance greeted him with an energy that made Quinn nervous. “My favorite on stage performer of the week!”

“Let’s not get nuts, Chance.”

“Did you see the steaming hot women crawling all over the place?”

“Every one of them in need of a decade or so of aging.”

“You clearly weren’t looking upstairs. Those college co-eds brought their mothers. Quinn, they brought their mothers and the mothers were hot, too!”

Oh I looked upstairs. I only saw one woman that mattered.

“Just pour me that swill you call ginger ale, and let me watch the game.”

“Suit yourself. There was one I think was really in to you. Couldn’t take her eyes off you, like she was glued to you or something.” Chance pointed to the spot where Isabella Landry stood two nights earlier.

“Yeah, you big dumb idiot! I came up here looking for that very woman that night! You told me you had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Oh quit sulking. Look, that same woman, she was just in here.” Chance nodded toward the corner booth. “She was sitting right there, not five minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into her on the stairs.”

I probably did.
“Was she with anyone?”

“Not when she came in. Ordered the weirdest thing. Glass of red wine and a glass of ice.” Chance shook his head. “Yankees…what are you gonna do?”

Quinn remembered her accent, only lightly laced with a hint of Nashville.
She would sound Northern to everyone down here.

“But she and the singer guy, the one you hate, had a conversation and then left.”

“They left together? You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

Quinn drained the ginger ale wishing he could drink the image of Isabella with the folk singer out of his brain.
Why would I think she didn’t have friends? She’s a grown woman. It’s not like she’s been frozen in time. Not really.

But did it have to be that guy?

His cell phone buzzed.
Serena.

Of course.

***

“It’s weird, having dinner with me, isn’t it?”

Izzy looked up from her plate of lasagna. “Not as weird as you thinking I could eat this much food.”

Collier smiled over the rim of his wine glass. “Yes, one thing about the attractions of the Old Spaghetti Factory is that they’re good for boosting those who look like they could use a good meal.”

“Are you saying I’m too thin?”

Collier broke off a buttery piece of garlic bread and handed it to her. “Not if you’re in training for an Iron Man competition or something.”

Izzy took the bread and sank her teeth into the buttery, garlicky delight. “I guess, over the years, I worked out a lot. I liked running. I had a membership to the gym. I like weight lifting, if you can believe that.”

Collier reached over the table. “Put up your arm. Oh yeah, that is one massive gun you have.” Collier cleared his throat, sat back and smiled. “You have a lot of questions.”

“How would you know that?”
Collier always read me better than anyone else.

“Well, it’s written all over your face.”

“That’s spaghetti sauce.” She wiped her mouth with a linen napkin and took a sip of wine. “But you’re right. I have questions.”

“So do I, but ladies first. Fire away.”

She studied him. In the half light of the restaurant, the years dropped away from his face. “Why folk singing?”

“Oh that’s easy. While you and Dad were spending endless hours on sit spins and figures, I was in my tree house listening to folk music, writing folk music, and dreaming of the day I could wander the earth singing folk music to middle-aged housewives who put on corsets once a year and truly, in their heart of hearts, believe they should have been born during the Renaissance era because it was so darn romantic.”

Izzy smiled. “And there’s nothing more to it than that?”

Collier shook his head. “Not really. I didn’t want a complicated life. I don’t mind singing about drama, but I didn’t want any real part of it.” He paused for a beat. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Izzy recognized the shadow darkening his features.
He’s talking about me.

“You made the right choice.”

The naked honesty of her words hung between them, a cold cloud over the warm glow of reunion.

“Hey, I think another glass of wine would be a good thing.” Collier waved to the waiter.

Izzy bit her lip.
Don’t talk about it. Keep it hidden.
“No.”

“No?”

“No, I mean, yes another glass of wine would be very nice. But no, you shouldn’t feel like you have to apologize. You made the right choice.”

“I had choices to make. You never had any to make on your own.”

Izzy shook her head. “I made one choice, and it brought me all the drama I could handle for a short time, and then nothing. Now I’m back in the middle of drama, probably.”

The waiter filled their glasses and Izzy talked for the next ten minutes, sharing her worries about the future, her hopes for Jenna. She told Collier about the emptied bank accounts, and how there was no insurance money. As he paid the bill, she told him about the lottery ticket, and her decision to move to Nashville. “And then, today, there you were. Like a sign or something.”

“There I was.” Collier’s voice was distant as he folded the credit card receipt and put it in his pocket. “Would you like to take a stroll along the river or something?”

“Sure.” Izzy stood a little too quickly and stumbled.

Collier caught her and grinned. “So you’re still ‘Dizzy Izzy’ aren’t you?”

She smiled and accepted his arm for extra balance. Collier opened the door and the hot, sticky air of the Nashville night swathed her in a comfortable mental fog.

“Izzy?”

Adele’s grating voice jolted Izzy. “Oh, hi guys.”

“I thought you were too sick to help the girls move today.”

Izzy flushed, hating the imperious look on Adele’s face. “I am...I was. When I woke up, I decided to go for a walk. I ran into Collier, who is an old friend.”

“An old friend. Yes, I’m sure he is.”

“Adele…” Sean’s voice held a warning note.

“Yes, I’m very sure. Tell me, Collier…is it? What do you do?”

“Collier is a musician.”
Oh just pour gasoline on the flames.

“A homeless one, from the looks of things,” Adele huffed.

“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Adele,” Collier bowed low in an exaggerated show of manners.

“Would I have heard any of your stuff?”

“Shut up Sean!” Adele whirled on her husband like a viper. “We are talking to Izzy about this new old friend she’s found who raised her from her sick bed and took her out for dinner and…a few drinks it looks like.”

“You do not need to be insulting.” Izzy’s eyes stung with furious tears.

“And you do not need to lie to me. If you wanted to spend the day with street people, that’s your choice.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Collier spoke in a soft, heavily Southern voice, “I really do prefer ‘traveling minstrel’ if you don’t mind? And if you don’t mind, I think your husband was taking you to dinner and I was escorting Miss Izzy back to her hotel. Good night.” He gripped Izzy’s arm and ushered her away from a stunned Adele.

Once out of sight of the restaurant, Izzy giggled. “I can’t believe you! No one talks to Adele like that and lives to tell.”

“That woman does not like you at all. Who is she?”

“She’s family. She’s Jason’s big sister. You know, the protective big sister who believes with all her heart that I ruined her baby brother’s golden dreams.”

“I see.” Collier put a protective arm around her shoulders. “And you and she, what, live close to each other?”

“You could say that. If I go back to Wisconsin tomorrow I’ll be living with her.” Izzy made a face. “If I had the lottery money right now, there would be no question. I’d just stay here.” She made a worse face. “I hate to think of the big wicked scene that would get out of her, though.”

Collier’s laughter was gentle, much like the one armed hug he gave her. “May I say something about you moving here?”

“If you want.”

“Here, sit on this bench.” Collier pointed to a bench on the walk way.

Izzy sat and stared at the moonlight shining on the Cumberland River. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? I’d forgotten how pretty the river is at night.”

Collier knelt in front of her. “Izzy, I’d like you to stay in Nashville.”

His earnest manner surprised her. “Okay.” She was uncertain about what to say further.

“I’d like you to move back, because, in a way, for me, you never left.” Collier slid next to her on the bench. “You’ve always been right here.” He put a hand over his heart.

The expression on his face took her back to the last time she saw Collier, and Izzy was suddenly uncomfortable. “Col…”