Country: a novel Part 5

"That makes me sound so boring. Steady and reliable. Like a solid car, or an old workhorse."

"They're the best kind. And the ones you want to come home to, not the ones you want to run away from."

"Maybe that's why Bill had an affair. Because he knew I'd always be there. He was looking for excitement. She wasn't a bad girl, though, just bored with her marriage. I guess Bill was too."

"It doesn't have to be that way, boring with a good woman," he said wisely. "I'd rather have a fast car now, and slow women. A fast one will always burn you. At least the ones I knew always did, every time."

"I don't know what the right answers are anymore," she said with a small sigh in the darkness. "The marriages that last aren't the ones I want. My friend Jean is married to a man who cheats on her constantly, and she hasn't loved him in years. She stays married to him because he has a lot of money, and she'd rather have everything she can buy than a man who loves her. And my other friend Alyson, the one who just called, is madly in love with her husband. But she has so many illusions about him that I always feel like they're an accident waiting to happen. Like me and Bill. I never thought he'd cheat on me, and then he did. And nothing was ever the same again. We never got back to the way we felt before. So what's the answer to that one?"

"Maybe you should have left him if you weren't in love with him anymore. In spite of the kids. That's not enough reason to stay married."

"I thought it was. I don't know. Maybe I was wrong." She looked pensive as she said it.

"What did your kids think? Did you ask them?"

"They were too young. And we never told them what happened. I didn't want them to hate their father."

"You're a n.o.ble woman, Stevie. And they weren't that young. From what you've told me, the two oldest ones were sixteen and eighteen, seven years ago when it happened. And your little one was thirteen. That's plenty old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. h.e.l.l, I had a kid myself when I was your son's age at the time. And he was seven when I was the age your son is now. That forces you to grow up. Young people stay kids a lot longer today. Those were different times, in a different world. Kids in the south used to marry a lot younger, especially poor ones. No one I knew went to college. You graduated from high school, got married, and had a baby nine months later. Or you got pregnant and got married. That's why I keep an eye on Sandy. I don't want her doing either one, getting pregnant or married. She has a big future ahead of her, if she sticks with it. I want to get her an alb.u.m when she's ready, in another couple of years. She's not ready for it yet, but she will be. That's the best gift I can give her father. He was a h.e.l.l of a fine musician. He died of a brain tumor. He was gone six weeks after they diagnosed him. That taught me something too, about life, and how fast it can change."

"She's lucky to have you," Stephanie said quietly. "You're a good man too," she said and meant it. "You're steady and reliable."

"Reliable," he grinned at her, "but not always so steady. At least I didn't used to be. Now I'm just old and tired." But he sure didn't look it. He still seemed young and s.e.xy. Jean wasn't wrong about that. Stephanie realized too how shocked Alyson would be to see her with him, not to mention her children. They were a slightly incongruous pair. She was a Pacific Heights housewife, and he was a star on the country music scene, and everything that went with it, including his good looks. But there was a lot more to him than that.

"I don't think 'old and tired' is the way I'd describe you." She laughed in the darkness at his self-deprecating description.

"Well, you don't look like anyone's boring wife, I can tell you. Your husband was a fool to be after greener pastures, with all due respect. And if you'd bought that black leather miniskirt I picked out for you, I'd be beating guys away with a stick, to keep them off you," he said with a guffaw, and she laughed.

"Yeah, and they'd be cops trying to arrest me for indecent exposure. The white one I bought is short enough."

"Nah, we'll get you into some decent clothes in Nashville," he teased her. But he liked the way she dressed-she managed to be clean cut, respectable, and s.e.xy all at the same time. He knew she was the kind of woman you married, not just slept with. Her husband just hadn't known what a prize he had. But he didn't want to press the point and say it to her. Chase had been proud every time he left the hotel with her, and she had no idea how beautiful she was. He admired her innocence and honesty. He found everything about her refres.h.i.+ng. He was tired of the jaded women he met constantly, and the lunatics and women who wanted to go out with him just because he was Chase Taylor, or for what he could buy them. He could have had a dozen women like that every day. But he had never been with anyone like Stephanie. He knew it the minute he met her.

"You know what I think the answer is, Stevie?" He thought about it for a long moment. "I think you have to wait for the right person to come along, even if it doesn't happen till you're ninety-eight years old. It's just not worth messing with the wrong ones. They break your heart or screw up your life every time. I guess that's why I haven't bothered for the last couple of years. I've been around that track too often. I don't need to go around it again. You always wind up in the same place, right back where you started. I can't be bothered."

"I still feel married to Bill," she said softly, in the confessional atmosphere of the dark car as they drove along the highway.

"You probably will for a while," he answered, not looking at her. "It just shows you're a good woman, and you were a good wife. You don't have anything to reproach yourself for on that score. And I'm sure he knew it too."

"Maybe," she said thoughtfully, but she wasn't sure. "We didn't even say goodbye to each other that morning. All we talked about was the weather. And his last word to me was 'thanks' as he walked away."

"That's a lesson for you right there. When you fall in love again, you'll talk about the things that are important."

"Yeah, I guess so." But she couldn't imagine falling in love again. Like Chase, she didn't want to get her heart broken. And Bill had injured hers severely. She had never really recovered. She realized that now. She had just been on autopilot for the last seven years of their marriage, and maybe even before, and so had Bill.

They rode along in silence for a while, and then he started singing in his soft, deep voice, and she sang along with him a capella. They sang a few songs, and he turned to her. "We sound pretty good together. We'll have to record that. After you write me some songs."

"I'm not going to write you any songs. They'd be awful."

"Try it. You might like it." He was teasing her, but he had a feeling she might be good at it.

He talked to her about Nashville again then. He was happy she was going with them. And it was eleven o'clock when they finally drove into Elk City. He headed down the main street to the simple, but comfortable hotel where they had stayed before. The others were piling out of the bus, when Chase pulled up beside them. They needed six rooms for all of them, and he had had Charlie call ahead. The desk clerk was waiting for them and had all their keys ready. They always spent the night there on their way to or from Vegas.

The boys in the band slept in pairs, and Sandy and Delilah shared a room. And he had reserved two rooms for him and Stevie. They happened to be next door to each other, and he walked her to her room to make sure they had given her the best one. She was carrying a tote bag with what she needed, and had left her suitcase in the trunk of the car. His was on the bus, and he was carrying a backpack with his toilet kit, clean underwear, and a clean T-s.h.i.+rt. He was satisfied with the room they'd given her and turned to look at her from the doorway.

"Sleep tight, Miss Stevie. Call me if you need anything. I'll be awake for a while." The band had gone to eat at Friday's at the hotel, but Chase said he wasn't hungry. And all Stevie wanted was a bath. She felt grimy after riding in the car all day. And they had another long day ahead tomorrow. They had agreed to ride the bus and have one of the boys drive her car.

"Thanks for the nice room, Chase." He had insisted on paying for it with the others.

"Of course. I tried to get a rollaway to put you in with Sandy and Delilah, but they didn't have one," he said with a twinkle in his eye, and she laughed.

"That would have been fine. I've had worse."

"Not on my watch." He smiled at her then and left, and she gently closed the door. And a little while later he could hear her bath running, and he tried not to think about her getting in it. Those kinds of thoughts always got him in trouble, and she wasn't the kind of woman you could take lightly. And he didn't want to. He didn't want to do anything to spoil the trust they were building. He could tell that she felt safe with him, and he wanted to keep it that way. She brought out the best in him, and had ever since he met her. This wasn't Tamra or the women like her. She was a lady, and a woman he respected. He walked into his bathroom then and turned on the shower and washed off the dirt of the day. He put on clean shorts and lay on his bed then, still thinking about her. He kept thinking back to the day he had met her, sitting on the bench, looking out at the Grand Canyon, and then walking along the trail with her. And seeing her from the stage, and his excitement knowing she was there. He was beginning to feel as though she had been in his life forever, and he hoped she would be. He had no idea what they would be to each other, maybe just friends, but he knew that something important had happened that day on the trail. Whatever this was, Chase could feel the hand of destiny in it. He felt like a boy again when he thought about her. Just a country boy, and as he thought it, a song started dancing through his mind. He could already hear the music, and the words that came into his head as he fell asleep were "the country boy and the lady"...the music sounded great, and all he needed now were the rest of the words.

Chapter 10.

It was easier riding the bus, the next day, than it had been driving her car for so many hours, and two of the men from the band took turns driving it as they went through Oklahoma, and then into Arkansas, which Chase said gave him nightmares just thinking about it. He had hated his childhood there. He said he had felt stifled in the tiny town he grew up in, there was no opportunity to grow and be something more, and most people got stuck there forever. And he admitted that even as a kid, he had had big dreams.

They sat on the bus and talked to the others, and Sandy monopolized Stevie every chance she got, showing her gossip in fan magazines and dresses she thought were terrific. She wanted to know Stevie's opinions about everything, and Chase smiled as he watched them, and finally rescued Stephanie and invited her to watch a movie in his bedroom. They had to sit on his bed, propped up against big pillows, and he let her pick the movie. He had one of the guys make them popcorn in the microwave, and he and Stephanie sat engrossed by the movie, and he loved her choice. The others were eating microwave pizza when they finished, and he and Stevie helped themselves to a slice, and looked out the windows as they sat at the dining table. The bus was a wonder of practicality, luxury, and comfort, with a sound system better than most homes had.

It was early evening when they reached the Mississippi River, and Stephanie was amazed by how wide it was, and how much activity there was on it. They crossed over at Memphis, and had another three and a half hours to get to Nashville. But everyone on the bus was coming alive by then and was excited to get home. Chase sat next to Stephanie and told her again about the sights he wanted to show her in Nashville. He had to work for a few hours the next day, but he planned to pick her up by noon and show her around the city. She already knew about the full-scale replica of the Parthenon and could hardly wait to see it, and he wanted to show her Andrew Jackson's home, which he said was a tribute to one of the great love stories of the south. The president had designed the gardens himself for his wife, Rachel.

Everyone was animated in the last hours on the bus, and Delilah couldn't wait to see her boys. Chase had already made a reservation for Stevie at the best hotel in town, the Hermitage, which this time she insisted she would pay for, and he had agreed to let her. The hotel was in downtown Nashville, and Chase had told her it housed one of the best steakhouses in the city. He ate there often.

It was ten o'clock by the time they drove up to the hotel entrance, after a twelve-hour drive, but they were home. Chase had the bus stop at the hotel first, and the boys who had been driving her car dropped it off, so she would have it with her. And he watched the bellman unload her suitcase and then walked her into the elegant lobby. He stayed with her while she checked in, and went upstairs with her to make sure she liked her room, and she a.s.sured him she loved it. The hotel had all the graciousness and elegance of the south that she had expected. Then he looked regretful as he left her.

"I'm sorry to run out on you. I need to get these guys home so they can work tomorrow. They've got to start laying down the music tracks in the studio for our alb.u.m. I'll call you in the morning."

"I'm fine," she said, and then gently put a hand on his arm. "Chase, thank you for everything." He could see that she meant it, and was touched. She was such a gentle woman. He had been making notes all day for the song he'd thought of the night before, "The Country Boy and the Lady," but he hadn't told her about it.

"We haven't even started," he said, and then kissed her cheek. "Wait till I show you the city tomorrow."

"I can't wait. I'll take a look around in the morning."

"I'll call you," he promised, and then hurried down the hall with a wave, as the bellman and elevator man looked at him in awe. They were used to seeing stars around the hotel, but Chase Taylor was about as big as it got in Nashville. And just seeing their reaction to him, Stephanie realized again just what a huge star he was. She had already gotten used to being with him, and he was so natural and relaxed that sometimes she forgot about it.

She settled into her room then, unpacked her suitcase, and ran a bath, and she was suddenly glad that she'd been brave enough to come, and called Jean in California.

"So how is it?" Jean asked with an expectant tone. "Is he there?"

"No, he had to get the band home. Jeannie, it's fantastic here. I love it. It's so...so southern." They both laughed at what she said, and Stephanie told her about the two days on the road, the places they'd gone through, her day on the bus, and how beautiful the hotel was.

"s.h.i.+t. We'll never get you back to San Francisco."

"Yes, you will. I live there. But this is so much fun."

"I'm happy for you," Jean said, feeling emotional about it. Her friend had had such a hard time in the last few months that she was genuinely grateful that something good had happened to her. And meeting Chase Taylor sounded like a good thing to her. He had already turned Stephanie's life around in a short time. And even if nothing came of it, it had been a great experience. Her voice sounded different. And she seemed more hopeful about life, and excited about what she was doing. She had finally stopped mourning, and had begun living again.

They talked for a while, and then Stephanie got into the tub. And she was just getting out of it and had wrapped herself in a towel when Chase called her. He was home after he dropped everyone off. And the first thing he did when he walked in was call her.

"I know this sounds ridiculous," he said, sounding embarra.s.sed, "but I already miss you. You're nice to be with, Stevie."

"So are you." They had talked nonstop for two days, when they weren't singing, laughing, or watching a movie. The trip from Vegas to Nashville had been great with Chase. "I could definitely get used to your bus as my favorite mode of travel."

"Maybe I should send it back to California with you. They could tow your car," he said seriously.

"If you do that, I might never send it back. I think I'd better drive home. Besides, how would I explain it to my son?" She laughed at the thought.

"Is everything okay at the hotel? Did you order something to eat?"

"I was thinking about it," she admitted, but she was almost too tired to eat. The bath had made her sleepy.

"The food is great there. They have one of the best chefs in the city. We'll have dinner at the steakhouse one night." There was so much he wanted to show her, she'd have to stay a month. And he had to fit his work in somehow. "Get a good night's sleep. We're going to be busy tomorrow. And I have to be in the studio tomorrow night. Will you come?"

"Of course, if you'll have me."

"The boys say you're our mascot. And Sandy loves you."

"Is that polite for groupie?"

"You can be that too." But he was always respectful of her. He treated her like a porcelain doll, and he was very southern in his manners and how he addressed women. She liked it. For a poor boy from Arkansas, he had learned quickly a long time ago, and behaved like a gentleman despite the long hair and tattoos. He was more polite than any man she knew in San Francisco.

He sounded sorry to hang up, and she ordered chamomile tea, which arrived on a silver tray, with a plate of delicate b.u.t.ter cookies. She loved the hotel he had picked for her. And after she finished her tea, she texted all her children, sent them her love, and said she hoped that they were fine. Then she called Alyson to see how her kids were doing. She sounded frantic, Stephanie could hear them crying in the background, and Alyson got off in under two minutes. But Stephanie felt like she'd done her duty. She got into the big, comfortable bed, turned on the TV, watched a movie, and fell asleep halfway through it.

- And the next thing she knew, the sun was streaming into the room, and when she got up, she peeked out her windows at the view of Legislative Plaza, in front of the Tennessee state capitol building. She ordered breakfast and got dressed and walked around downtown near the hotel. She was back long before noon, when Chase had promised to pick her up. He arrived a few minutes late and looked harried. He said he had been getting things organized at his house all morning.

"We've only been gone a week, but everything goes wrong when I'm away. My sprinkler system broke and created a lake in my backyard. One of my dogs got loose and probably got my neighbor's dog pregnant, for the second time. My housekeeper is threatening to quit, and the gardener broke his arm and didn't come. The guys were late coming to the studio this morning, and Sandy thinks she's catching a cold, and we need her to lay voice tracks for the new alb.u.m."

"Are you sure you want to go sightseeing today? We don't have to. I feel guilty tying up your time," Stephanie said apologetically.

"We don't have to. I want to!" he told her with his dazzling smile. He had driven over in the vintage Corvette he loved, and they left the hotel five minutes later. They went to the Parthenon in Centennial Park first, so she could see it in broad daylight, and he promised to bring her back at night, when it was even more impressive. He told her it had been built for the Tennessee Centennial Exposition in 1897. He was an encyclopedia of local historical facts, and she was fascinated by all of it.

Then he took her to The Hermitage, Andrew Jackson's estate, to visit the house and the grounds. They even saw the log cabin Jackson and his wife had lived in from 1804 to 1820, the mansion they had lived in from 1820 onward, and the historic gardens he had designed for his wife. There was something so touching about it, as the docent who conducted the tour brought the presidential couple to life, with personal details that made them seem more human. And she explained that they had had a hundred and fifty slaves working on the property at the time to care for the plantation and the farm. Farming had been Jackson's pa.s.sion. Stephanie found it fascinating, and Chase admitted that he hadn't visited the historic home in a long time, and enjoyed seeing it as well.

And after that they went to a little catfish place on Music Valley Drive for a late lunch. Then he drove her past the dozens of storefronts that doubled as music venues. It was here that one sensed that Nashville was all about music. Every store they saw had some kind of live music being offered. He explained to her that they were in the West End of the city, and the street they were on was called Music Row. And then he pointed out the renovated homes and old warehouses that housed the big-label music companies now. He said there were countless recording studios there as well, although he now preferred his own. But this was where all the action was in the music world that made its home in Nashville. Two blocks away he took her to Elliston Place, where he said all the nightclubs were, and she noticed a number of cafes with live music. He said some of the best music in town was played on that block, and he had played there himself when he was young. And on the way back to the hotel, they pa.s.sed Vanderbilt University. It was late afternoon when they got back to the hotel, and they stopped at the Oak Bar for a drink. Her head was spinning from everything they had seen in a short time. And she said her favorite had been the tour of The Hermitage, Andrew Jackson's home. And she was touched hearing about how much he had loved his wife. There was something both poignant and inspiring about it.

"It's kind of cool that two hundred years later, we're hearing about how much he loved her. I don't think they would say that about anyone I know." She was smiling as the waiter poured them each a gla.s.s of champagne. Chase toasted her to celebrate her arrival in Nashville.

"Well, they're not going to say that about anyone I went out with, two hundred years from now," he said as he took a sip of the champagne. He had enjoyed showing her the sights all afternoon. And he was going to take her to Brentwood, the suburb where he lived, that night. There wasn't much to see there except stately houses-it was where many of the wealthier residents of Nashville had their homes. He had lived in Franklin before that, a small historic town, but he liked his much bigger new home in Brentwood. And he had a small cottage on the estate for Sandy, which gave them both a little s.p.a.ce from each other. He had provided a wonderful home for her.

"What a terrific city," Stephanie said, looking relaxed and happy. "It's so alive."

"San Francisco is beautiful too." He had been there many times, and played concerts at the Oakland Coliseum, and Sh.o.r.eline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, and the HP Pavilion in the city. And he had played the Fillmore when they were still booking him into smaller venues. He had always loved that one for its 1960s aura and history. But now they could only book him into larger ones when he went on tour, because the crowds at his concerts were so huge.

He hated to leave her after the champagne, but he said he had to get back and check on the band, and see how things were going in the studio.

"They're like kids. They start slacking off if I'm not around." He had arranged for his a.s.sistant to pick her up and drive her to Brentwood at seven o'clock. It was only twenty minutes out of the city, and he would drive her back himself in the Corvette. She had had a great time with him all afternoon, although everyone recognized him, but they would have anyway, no matter what he drove. "I have the day off tomorrow. And there are some other things I want you to see. I have a surprise." He was trying to organize her introduction to Nashville, while keeping a hand in his work. And she knew they were playing a concert in six days. It had been sold out for months.

He left her in the lobby, and she heard the Corvette roar off two minutes later, as she went upstairs. She had had a fabulous day so far, thanks to Chase.

She changed into jeans and comfortable clothes for their time in the studio that night. And he said there would be plenty of food for everyone to eat. She couldn't wait to see his house. She knew how much he loved it, and how important his home was to him. He talked about it a lot, and what a job it had been to renovate it. It was an old Colonial mansion on extensive grounds. It was part of an old plantation that had been divided into lots years before, and he had the main house and gardens closest to the house. The old slave quarters had been torn down when the property had been split up.

She hardly had enough time to check her e-mails and change her clothes before it was time to pick her up. One of his a.s.sistants was waiting outside the hotel in a 1940s panel truck. It was cherry red, and she was enjoying seeing all the things he had told her about that she knew he enjoyed. He had shown her a picture of the truck on his phone. He had rebuilt the engine himself. Wanda, his a.s.sistant, was a young girl about Michael's age from Savannah, who had worked for him for three years, and it was obvious how much she admired him and liked him, as she raved about what a terrific person he was all the way to Brentwood. He was obviously good to work for, since the band said that about him too. Wanda chatted easily with Stephanie all the way to the house.

And when they got to Brentwood, she was amazed by the size of his home. It was an enormous, imposing, stately mansion that looked like something out of Gone with the Wind. And there were equally large homes and even a few larger ones in the area around him. But his was one of the most beautiful ones there.

"Wow!" Stephanie said, breathless for a moment, as she looked at Wanda. Nothing had prepared her for this.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Wanda said, with a vast understatement about his home.

"It certainly is," Stephanie said, as she followed her inside, after they left the truck parked out front. It looked incongruous sitting there but somehow seemed perfect with his image. The fabulous house, and the vintage panel truck he had restored. And the moment they stepped inside, she was impressed with how quietly elegant it was. He had beautiful antiques interspersed with more recent pieces, and it all seemed to work. The colors were subdued, and there was something peaceful and welcoming about it. The inside of the house wasn't showy, but it was exquisitely done. And he had some very fine paintings that she liked too. He had obviously put a lot of time and effort into doing his home. Despite his humble beginnings, he had refined taste and the money to indulge it. The house was like him, impressive and discreet.

Wanda led her into an enormous state-of-the-art kitchen, all done in beige and black granite, and from there you could see the beautifully kept gardens behind the house. There was a huge round table in the middle of the kitchen where more than a dozen people could sit comfortably for easy dinners. And they walked through the kitchen into the elaborate high-tech world he had set up behind it, which was the studio where they recorded. He had built it as an addition onto the house. And Stephanie could see Sandy's cottage at the back of the garden, which looked like a little gingerbread house that was perfect for her. Everything about the house and what was in it was great, and infinitely more than she had expected. But she was beginning to know that it was typical of him. Nothing had been done to show off, it had all been designed to live in, comfortably and well, with beautiful things around him, where the people he cared about would be comfortable and feel at ease. It was both casual and impressive all at once. She found him in the studio, talking to the band, while two sound technicians were playing with the mix, and Chase was explaining what he wanted changed. He sounded patient, but looked intent, and totally focused on what he was doing. He didn't even notice for a minute that Stephanie had arrived. Wanda said goodbye and discreetly disappeared. She worked in Chase's office but had nothing to do with his music. And then suddenly he saw Stevie and broke into a grin.

"You're here." He looked pleased, and she nodded, still slightly overwhelmed by the house and everything she'd seen on the way in.

"This is quite a place," she said admiringly. It made her realize again just how important a star he was. He made it so easy to forget. He was so normal and human scale, in his dealings with people and in the way he looked, that it was hard to a.s.sociate his appearance and demeanor with his stature in the world. But even Jean had reminded her that Chase Taylor was a huge celebrity. And the house was in keeping with that, no matter how discreet it was, or how simply and tastefully he had decorated it. The art alone was worth a fortune, as were the antiques. "I love your house," she said simply, and he looked thrilled.

"I was hoping you would like it," he said, as an oversize golden retriever came to lick his hand and check her out. "That's Frank. George is asleep upstairs." She knew that George was an English bulldog he had brought back from Europe after one of his tours. They were his beloved friends. Frank was wagging his tail frantically with a ball in his mouth to get their attention, and she reached out for it. "Don't even start," Chase warned her. "He'll never leave you alone after that. He's obsessed. He follows me around all day with his ball. And he sings. He howls whenever we play. He can't stay in the studio when we do, or all we'll hear on the tracks is him." Everyone laughed when he said it, because they all knew it was true. And Stephanie patted Frank's head. She hadn't had a dog since Charlotte left for college. Their Lab had died three years before, and Bill didn't want her to replace him. He said it was too much work and made no sense with the kids gone. But she missed having a dog, particularly now, and she'd been thinking of getting another one. Seeing Frank made it seem like an even better idea. His devotion to Chase was complete.

"When can I meet George?" she inquired, and Chase promised to take her upstairs when they finished work. He shooed Frank out of the room then, and closed the soundproof door of the studio, and pulled up the stool he had gotten for her. It was comfortable and very high, and he placed it so she could see everything going on in the room and watch them work. And it was close enough so he could see her too. He handed her a set of earphones so she could hear the music on the tracks, and listen to the mix. It was an impressive high-tech studio, and she could tell that the equipment had cost a fortune, but this was where they recorded his alb.u.ms. It was the heart and soul of his life, and his work.

They started a few minutes later, and she made not a sound for the many hours that they worked. They worked for four hours without taking a break, and then at a sign from Chase, they all stopped what they were doing.

"Let's eat," he said to everyone there. He was satisfied with what they'd done so far, and was finally willing to take a break, although they had several hours left to do. He turned to Stephanie then for the first time, and he looked at her intently. He was very serious about his work. "What did you think?" he asked her, although she knew nothing about his business. But she could tell how skilled and meticulous he was. He paid attention to every detail, and made them go over the same pieces again and again until they all got it right. And he was just as demanding of himself, and a relentless taskmaster with Sandy to teach her her craft. She had performed beautifully on what they'd recorded.

"It sounded fabulous to me," she said honestly.

"We have a lot more to do," he explained. "We won't finish it tonight." He walked into the kitchen and she followed him, and a lavish spread had appeared on the granite counters, of southern fried chicken, barbecued ribs, salads and pasta, sas.h.i.+mi, and cold lobster. It was an incredible meal, and they were all ravenous as they dug in, even Sandy. They had worked hard. And Stephanie heaped food onto her plate along with them. She hadn't realized how hungry she was too until now. And the food looked too good to resist. She helped herself to lobster and sas.h.i.+mi and some ribs.

They talked about what they'd been recording, during dinner, and Chase outlined what he wanted to finish that night. He didn't fool around while he was working, although he chatted with Stephanie while they ate, and made small talk with the others. They all helped themselves to thick slabs of chocolate cake and cheesecake, and an hour after they'd started eating, they went back to the studio and got to work.

It was three in the morning when they finished. Stephanie was surprised to see that they looked exhilarated instead of exhausted. It was obvious that they loved what they were doing, and equally so that they admired and respected Chase. Charlie said that he was a genius. He had an infallible sense for his music.

The members of the band left quickly and promised to be back the next morning. Chase told them he wouldn't join them until the afternoon, and he looked at Stephanie mysteriously as he said it.

"We're going somewhere tomorrow," he told them, and no one seemed to mind. They had enough to work on, on their own, until he got back. He had given them all a.s.signments and told Sandy to rest her voice. She had worked hard that night, and he didn't want it to show in what they recorded the next day.

And then finally they were alone in the kitchen where he said he spent most of his time.

"Do you want to come upstairs for a minute?" he asked her with a mischievous expression. She had an instant's hesitation, then quickly agreed. She was sure he was only going to show her the house and would never cross any boundaries with her, without her permission. He had always been respectful of her so far, and never took advantage of her or treated her as more than a friend, which was all she was prepared to be for now, in spite of Jean's fantasies about them. She didn't share her friend's point of view, of sleeping with him for the h.e.l.l of it, because he was handsome and who he was. She wanted more than that if she came to care about him. Stephanie had never been promiscuous even before she married Bill, or when she was in college. Bill was the only man she had ever slept with, and she wasn't ready to move on. She still felt as though Bill was her husband, even though he was gone, and she had said as much to Chase.