Angel of Smoky Hollow. Barbara McMahon
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“What about the music festival?” Webb Francis asked at one point.
“It’ll all come together,” Kirk said.
The topic piqued Angelica’s interest. “What music festival?” she asked.
“The last weekend of August we have a big musical festival with folks coming from all over the state. We play, sing, dance. That’s one event you don’t want to miss,” Webb Francis said. “There’ll be a couple of impromptu gatherings before then, I expect. Rehearsals, sort of. Usually happens throughout the summer. Kirk, see what you can get going. Then Angelica can play for us.”
Kirk nodded, looking at her. “Play that fiddle you carry around, huh?”
“It’s a violin. A very old and valuable one,” she said with some asperity. A fiddle indeed.
“Same thing,” Webb Francis said. “I’ve got some sheet music in the little room off the living room. Find you some music so you can play at the festival,” he suggested.
She nodded, annoyed Kirk seemed amused at her defense of her violin. Obviously once away from the music world she was used to, she shouldn’t expect the same reverence she received in New York. Well, that’s what she wanted, more anonymity and less pressure. She couldn’t have it both ways.
In only a few moments, Kirk suggested they leave. Angelica could see Webb Francis was growing tired. Would he truly be up to returning home in a few days? She hoped so, but doubts began to grow.
As they walked out of the hospital, several people greeted Kirk—mostly women, Angelica noticed. Not that she blamed them. He looked even better today than when she’d first met him. The jeans were newer and fit like a glove. The shirt with the sleeves rolled back wasn’t as fitted as the T-shirt had been, but still showed off the perfect physique. His dark eyes seemed to notice everything, and the smile he gave when greeting people sent her heat index spiking.
“Need anything here before we return to Smoky Hollow?” he asked when they approached the motorcycle.
“How would I carry it if I did?” she asked.
“We’d manage.” He was looking at her with the same intensity. Those dark eyes seem to see right down into her soul.
She felt light-headed. Looking at the motorcycle, she drew in a breath.
“I’ll wait until I get to Smoky Hollow. If I’m really going to stay in Webb Francis’s house, I’ll need some food and things. The store there sells everything I’d need, right?”
“Pretty much. We’ll stop for lunch before heading home. All right with you?”
She nodded, interested in what she would see of Bryceville. Much more developed than Smoky Hollow and a larger town to boot, it was nothing like New York, but few places were. She was curious to see more.
By the time they reached Smoky Hollow in the midafternoon, Angelica’s head was swimming with new impressions and ideas. She had not, however, learned much about her guide. He’d driven through Bryceville pointing out landmarks. They’d eaten at a little café on a side street where everyone seemed to know Kirk and were friendly and welcoming when introduced to her. The ride back had been hot, the heat couldn’t be outrun and she was feeling limp when they stopped in front of the store.
“Stock up on what you need. I’ll be back and we’ll get your things from Sally Ann’s, then I’ll take you to Webb Francis’s place,” he said when she got off the bike.
Handing him her helmet, she eyed the bike. “On that?”
“I have a truck.”
She wondered why they hadn’t taken the truck into Bryceville. But she merely nodded. “Thank you, I appreciate that. This is such a small town, once I’m settled, I’m sure I can walk everywhere.”
“Pretty much.” He pushed back, then took off.
The two permanent fixtures on the porch asked her how she’d liked Bryceville.
“Very nice,” she replied as she passed to enter the store. She’d heard people in small towns knew everybody’s business. What a novelty that was. She didn’t know all the neighbors in her apartment floor and she’d lived there three years.
Stepping inside, Angelica was immediately fascinated by the old building. The wooden floors beneath her feet were worn, as if from a hundred years of shoppers. The shelves were not as tall as in most supermarkets, but from the assortment of merchandise, she realized the store carried all she’d need—just not in the vast quantities of larger establishments.
Bella Smith was the shopkeeper and as friendly as Angelica was coming to expect. The woman had her confiding her plans to move to Webb Francis’s home and the fact Kirk was helping before the shopping cart was half filled.
“He helps everyone. Such a contrast to his grandfather,” the woman said, watching as Angelica added pasta to her shopping cart.
“His grandfather lives around here?” Angelica asked, curious about her reluctant guide. Could she get the shopkeeper to tell if Kirk was married or not?
“Sure does. Lives down on Doe Lane. Mean old man. He raised Kirk. Amazing to me the boy turned out as well as he did.”
Angelica blinked at the older woman’s choice of words. Boy? The man was all man and then some.
When she had enough food to last a few days, she went to the checkout counter.
“How’s Webb Francis doing?” Bella asked as she rang up the purchases.
“Seemed very weak and tired to me. But he’s hoping to come back home before long.”
“Good thing Kirk checks in on him. He could have been worse if Kirk hadn’t found him when he did and taken him to hospital. There, I think that’s all you wanted. You let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you.” Angelica looked at the four bags of groceries, wondering how she was going to get them to Webb Francis’s home. She had stocked up so she didn’t need to shop again soon, but now she wondered if she would have been better off with just a few things to tide her over until morning.
“Ready?” Kirk walked in the store. His timing was perfect.
She nodded, careful to take a deep breath in case she didn’t get to breathe again until she got used to him being around. Was there something in the air that was making her crazy around this man? She wasn’t even sure she liked him. He didn’t seem to like her that much either.
“Got your truck?” Bella asked.
“Sure, lots to carry,” he said, taking two of the bags as if they weighed nothing. Angelica picked up the third and Bella the last one. When she stepped out on the porch, Angelica saw a big pickup truck parked nose in. Kirk placed the bags in the area behind the passenger seat of the extended cab. He quickly took hers and Bella’s and stowed them as well.
“Let’s go,” he said, pushing back the passenger seat so Angelica could climb in.
“If you have this, why did we take the motorcycle this morning?” she asked when he climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. Refreshing cool air blew from the vents. She relished the coolness, moving one vent so the air blew directly on her face.
“This is practical. The bike is fun.”
Angelica thought about that. When was the last time she’d done something for pure fun? She needed to get a life. She loved music, but felt very one-dimensional with all the focus on the classical and modern compositions and the endless hours of practice.
So now she was expanding music to include other aspects. What else could she expand in her life?
She glanced at Kirk, considering. She did not have a steady man in her life. And up until now, that hadn’t bothered her. She still didn’t know if he was married, but there was no ring on