“Thank you,” she said in a soft Irish burr she’d always had.
“I met your daughter, Rose, earlier. We sang‘Let It Go’fromFrozentogether.”
Branna sighed. “That song was so nice in the beginning, but now it’s become the anthem of torture in our household. Jake puts earplugs in when he hears it. Luckily, our youngest daughter is still little enough to think her sister sings like a goddess.”
“That’s good then.” Ryan looked around him.
“Ladies, this is Ryan Lawrence, Millicent’s son,” Branna said.
Not Ryan Lawrence, Talon band member. But Millicent’s son. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been introduced that way.
It was kind of odd that no one did anything but smile and nod at him, but then this was Lake Howling, and he’d grown up here. No one rushed at him stating they loved his music and could they have a photo with him or an autograph. Ryan had to admit, he kind of liked it.
“Wait!”
He watched Faith run in the back door.
“Sorry, I got delayed with a customer. Honestly, don’t people realize that Thursday is cake decorating night?” She’d changed into a deep ruby-red dress. The skirt reached her calves, and the top was simple with long sleeves, and it fitted every inch of her perfectly. Some of her dark hair was pulled back into a clip on top; the rest hung like a thick black satin curtain to her ears.
Thick satin curtain?Where had that come from? Clearly, he was more tired than he realized.
A vision of her wet and naked slipped into his head, and he wondered if he’d ever remove it. That or the look of devastation on her face.
“Hi, everyone.” The woman up front smiled. “I’m Lucy, for those that don’t know me.”
“Everyone here knows you.” Faith frowned.
Noah’s girl. Ryan slotted another piece together. Apparently, they’d had a pretty turbulent start to their relationship, but it seemed to have worked out.
“Ryan doesn’t.” She waved at him. “Hope must be so pleased you’re back.”
“Of course she’s pleased, as am I,” his mother snapped.
“Sorry, Millicent, of course you must be pleased too.” Lucy flushed with color.
Ryan noticed his mother was sitting alone, arms folded, lips in a familiar thin line.
“Well now, let’s hope he can make you see some sense,” someone muttered.
“Who said that?” his mother demanded.
“The voice of reason!”
He couldn’t be sure but thought that sounded like Mrs. C. But he couldn’t see her in the room.
“Why did you wait fifteen years to return home, Ryan?” HRH’s voice rose above the others, instantly quietening them.
“Eleven.” He smiled at Lizzie Heath as she waggled her fingers at him. “And I’ve been busy.”
“Which is no excuse, but you are at least here now,” HRH said as if he’d been aimlessly wandering the world and not becoming an award-winning musician who now had a considerable fortune. “And because you’re late, you get to pipe first.”
“Ah, pipe?” Ryan said, stepping backward until his heel hit the door.
“Come along, dear. Easier just to get it done.”
Mrs. C appeared from out back and moved toward him with far more speed than he’d ever have credited her for, smiling like a silent assassin. “Flower cupcakes, dear. My specialty. We’re doing them today.”
“Ah....” He literally had no words. He’d performed in front of thousands just two weeks ago, and now couldn’t form a rational thought. “I—ah, I need to—”