A Seaside Christmas. Sherryl Woods
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grab one of Grandma Nell’s cookies before they’re all gone,” Bree said. “Jenny and I have some things we need to figure out.”
Jenny watched them walk away, then faced her friend. “I only agreed to come because you invited me to stay with you and Uncle Jake. You’re not changing your mind, are you?”
“Of course not,” Bree said. “I just thought maybe you might want to reconsider. You know your mom is going to be crushed if you don’t come home.”
“That house isn’t my home,” Jenny said stubbornly, thinking instead of the small house in which her mom and Jake were raised and where she, too, had grown up. “I’ve never spent a single night in it.”
“And whose fault is that?” Bree asked reasonably. “It’s the house that Thomas built for your mother and his family. No matter how you might try to deny it and hold yourself aloof, you’re part of that family, Jenny.”
“I’m also a part of your family,” Jenny reminded her. “I’d rather stay with you and Uncle Jake.”
Bree nodded, though she didn’t even try to hide the disappointment in her expression. “Whatever you want. You’re always welcome to stay with us. You know that.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” She smiled. “But if you think I’m being pushy, just wait till you see your uncle. Jake isn’t one bit happy about any of this. He thinks it’s way past time for you and your mom to mend fences.”
“I’m sure he thinks this is all my fault, that I’m being stubborn and immature.”
Bree tried and failed to contain a smile. “Your words, but, yes, he’s made similar comments.”
Suddenly the prospect of staying with her uncle’s family didn’t seem much more enticing than going home. “Maybe I should book a room at the inn,” she said. That, too, belonged to yet another of the O’Briens, but it still seemed more likely to be neutral turf.
“Absolutely not,” Bree said. “I guarantee you wouldn’t even get your bags unpacked before Jake would be over there dragging you back to our place.”
“Can’t you call him off?” she asked Bree plaintively. “I know he listens to you.”
Bree merely laughed. “I might be the O’Brien with meddling in my DNA, but Jake is no slouch. He knows exactly how to get what he wants, and heaven help anyone who gets in his way. Since I actually agree with him about this, I won’t even try.”
“All that shows is that you’re highly susceptible to his charm.”
“Of course I am,” Bree admitted readily. “But stronger women than I have been persuaded to change their minds once Jake starts working on them.”
Jenny merely rolled her eyes. As much as she’d idolized her uncle growing up, she was pretty sure she could hold her own against him.
“Bring it on,” she said.
The truth was she was actually looking forward to a good test of wills. Maybe it would keep her mind off the emotional roller coaster she’d been on from the moment she’d driven into town and experienced the first powerful tug of homesickness she’d felt in years.
* * *
Caleb Green, once a partner in one of the hottest groups in country music and winner of half a dozen CMA Awards and two Grammys, sat in the shadows of a crowded club outside of Nashville. He’d come to listen to a young acquaintance perform in a showcase they both hoped would result in a recording contract. The showcase ritual was a way to get agents and record labels to take a listen to up-and-coming talent.
Though Caleb had hung around for a few of Ricky Nolan’s rehearsals, he’d never before heard the mournful ballad Ricky was performing now to close out the show.
As he listened, Caleb sat up a little straighter. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind who had written the song. Only Jenny Collins could rip out a man’s heart and fill it with regret. Hadn’t she done just that on more than one of his group’s hit songs? Their collaboration had been pure gold. Every song they’d done had shot straight to the top of the charts, crossing over between country and pop to find huge audiences.
Caleb relaxed—or tried to—as the showcase ended and Ricky was surrounded by well-wishers, including a man Caleb recognized as one of country music’s top agents. He’d asked Ken Davis—an agent he knew well, but had never worked with—to stop by as a personal favor to him, but he hadn’t been at all sure he’d had any chits left to call in. A lot of people in Nashville had written him off this past year. The fact that Ken had taken his call had been encouraging. The fact that he’d shown up tonight, persuaded by Caleb’s praise for Ricky’s voice, gave him hope for his own future in the business. Maybe not everyone considered him a pariah. Apparently one person still trusted his judgment, at least when it came to recognizing talent.
Unfortunately, pleased as he was for Ricky, his gut filled with envy just thinking about that heart-tugging song that Ricky had performed. Caleb knew instinctively it was exactly what he needed to get his career back after a whole host of mistakes, including walking away from Jenny and breaking her heart. Unfortunately, he couldn’t imagine a way she’d ever forgive him for their very public breakup. Cheating had been awful enough. Adding humiliation to the mix had been unforgivable.
As soon as things in the club settled down and another performer was onstage, Ricky joined Caleb in the back.
“What did you think?” he asked, all the bravado he’d displayed onstage now gone. He was just a nineteen-year-old kid looking for reassurance from someone he trusted.
Ricky had been only sixteen when Caleb and Jenny had first heard him in a club outside Charlottesville, Virginia. At eighteen and just out of high school, he’d turned up in Nashville, taking Caleb up on his offer to put him in touch with the right people. A year ago, though, Caleb hadn’t even been able to help himself, much less anyone else. Now he was making good on his promise, trying to earn back the reputation he’d once had as a good guy who was always ready to help a new artist.
“You knocked ’em dead,” Caleb told him honestly. “I imagine that’s exactly what Ken Davis told you, too.”
Ricky’s eyes lit up at the mention of the agent. “He wants to talk. We’re meeting tomorrow.”
“That’s great,” Caleb said with total sincerity. “You get him on your team and you’ll go places fast. He has the respect of everyone in this town. He’s honest and he doesn’t take on just anyone. If he’s braggin’ on you to the labels, I guarantee you’ll be under contract in no time. He’ll line up a tour before summer, too.”
Ricky looked a little dazed. “I can’t believe it’s really happening. Everyone back home kept telling me I was crazy, that making it was a long shot at best.”
“You haven’t made it yet,” Caleb cautioned. “But with Ken in your corner, your chances have definitely improved.”
“It’s because of you, Caleb. You got me in here tonight. And I know for a fact you said something to Ken, too. He’d never have shown up otherwise. I owe you.”
Caleb drew in a deep breath. “You don’t owe me a thing. If Ken hadn’t liked what he heard, my getting him here wouldn’t have meant a thing.”
“I owe you,” Ricky repeated.
“There is a favor you could do for me,” Caleb admitted, still weighing whether he had any right to ask.
“Anything. Just name it.”
“That song, the one you sang at the end. Jenny Collins wrote it, didn’t she? I recognize her style.”
Ricky nodded, his expression chagrined. “I know you and she... Well, I know it ended badly, but we ran into each other a while back. She remembered me from that night in Charlottesville. She said my voice was perfect for a song she’d just