Five Months Earlier:
Tabitha Riley gripped the steering wheel and yanked her gray Toyota Camry into a parking spot. She checked the dashboard clock before pulling the key from the ignition. Dion was cutting it really close. Her sister had called while she was en route to Middleton Academy, her nephew's private school that was practically in the next town over. That's why it was named after the city west of Hillsdale. Kids from both towns went there, Hillsdale had two public schools and Middleton only had one. Only a select few families from either town could afford to send their children to The Academy. If she didn't get the mouthpiece her sister said Patrick needed for the recital in less than ten minutes and get back on the road, she was going to be late.
Luckily, she remembered seeing a music store two doors down from her gym: Life Sounds. She'd never been in there, but she had her fingers crossed that she could get what she needed and get out without incident.
She was so grateful that even though it was after five, the store was still open. Once inside, she glanced around at the floor displays; drum sets, half-a dozen pianos, tops open—of course, and guitars of all shapes and sizes. The entire front wall was windows, so the lighting was great, but there were still soft lights recessed into the ceiling above every instrument on display.
Behind a gleaming white counter in the middle of the store was a tall guy. His clothes automatically reminded her of someone that worked at Best Buy, but she shook off that impression. His pale blue button-up shirt wasn't the same shade as the uniforms at the other store. He also wore dark khaki pants, and black loafers. Initially, the outfit as a whole seemed geeky, but then he came out from behind the counter and approached her. She noticed the three-inch-thick black leather wrist bands with silver studs on each wrist, they way his black hair was combed, but still messy, falling into his eyes just a bit. He got closer and she noticed two skull earrings in each ear, and peeking out from the rolled up sleeve on his left arm was a bit of blue and black ink.
"Can I help you?" he asked and she finally focused on his face. His eyes were liquid gold, framed with long, ink-black lashes. His jaw was square, his cheekbones were high, and his nose was a blade. He was all-together gorgeous. He was white, but his features were so unique she couldn't help but stare. Usually she found herself attracted to guys with darker skin and eyes, closer to her own honey-brown complexion and darker. This guy was making her reconsider exactly what her type was, though. Especially the way his full lips turned up at the corners when he smiled.
Tabitha glanced around. He was speaking to her and he was smiling at her. She took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. Why was she here again? Oh—yeah, Patrick's recital.
"Uh—hi," she stammered.
"Hi," he said, smile getting wider.
"I need a piece." No, that wasn't right.
One of his black eyebrows lifted.
"To blow," she amended.
Both eyebrows went up.
Tabitha shook her head hard, causing her brown and bronze curls to bounce. "What I mean is; I need a mouthpiece for a trumpet." She held out her hand. The guy took the Target receipt she'd used to jot down the model number while driving and on the phone with Dion. Hopefully it was somewhat legible.
He laughed. "Okay, let's see what I can do."
Tabitha was pretty sure her face was just as red as the dress she was wearing.
"Could you hurry, please? The recital is in a half hour and I still have to get across town."
"Sure thing," he said with a dazzling smile, that she tried not to notice.
She decided to wait for him to return by the cash register to speed things along. When he came back with a small white box in his hand she let out a sigh of relief.
"Fifteen seventy-five," he said.
Tabitha pulled her bank card from her wallet and handed it to him. He studied the card for a second before he swiped it and handed it back. She scrawled something of a signature on the receipt, grabbed the bag from his hand, and hurried toward the door.
"Thanks for your business!" he called behind her.
She stopped her retreat and turned back to face him. "Thanks, you really helped me out today."
He nodded and waved. "Don't be late!"
She smiled and momentarily wished she had the time to at least flirt with him. She really did hate to be rude. Her phone began to ring in her purse. Just the ring was enough to remind her that she was in a hurry, but her sister reminded her of it as she.
***
Tabitha didn't find his card until the next morning.
She was getting in her car, preparing to drive home from her sister's house where she'd spent the night. After the concert had finished, they'd had dinner out, a rare treat for her nephews and nieces. Not that they suffered from having to eat home-cooked meals on a regular basis. The family employed a wonderful chef. Her two-year old niece, Lily, was so distracted by the passing strangers that she barely ate a thing. Rose and Patrick, seven and ten respectively, ate the sloppiest burgers Tabitha had ever seen. Dion, her sister, was once again pregnant and could barely stomach the sight of her two older children devouring their meaty, messy meals. She picked at a green salad, but mostly consumed dry crackers. Meanwhile, her brother-in-law, Rick, spent most of the meal trying to coach Lily into eating "just one more bite" and laughing when she pressed her pink lips together and shook her head.
Tabitha loved her family and hoped that one day, she would be as lucky as Dion. They had come from the humblest of beginnings, but had both grown to be educated, successful women. Dion was a financial genius. She may have looked like just another PTA mom, but in reality she held dual degrees—Business and Accounting—and was just as much a force behind her husband's financial success as he...not that Rick Solomon wasn't already wealthy before he'd met or married Dion. He was from old British money, after all.
Tabitha had her own room in their eight bedroom house on The Hill. She was a constant visitor, a more-than-willing babysitter, and never more than a phone call away. The family split their time between their home in Hillsdale and a multitude of other houses in which they lived or vacationed.
It was after ten when Tabitha decided to leave the comfort of a house full of warmth and noise. Her sister would be leaving soon. Her pregnancy was getting far along and she had to make the flight back to England before it would be medically unsound to do so. Tabitha was sort of weaning herself, getting used to spending more time alone so when her family went back to England she would be used to the solitude again.
The small plastic bag that the salesman had given her the night before was in the driver's seat. She picked it up and tossed it to the passenger's seat and the small white card slipped out. It landed face down, but there was something scrawled on the back in blue ink. She picked it up and smiled when she read it.
This is my job, but music is my life. Call me anytime. Wes
Underneath was a phone number. She automatically reached for her cell, but reconsidered. Sure, this Wes guy was cute, but how much could they possibly have in common? Besides, he probably just wanted to offer her some kind of music lessons or something. She certainly didn't have time for that...and even if he was offering something else...like a date...she didn't have time for that either!
Tabitha crumpled the card and shoved it back into the plastic bag. She couldn't imagine any instance that would bring her back in contact with Wes...or the store in which he worked.
