Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay) by Nan Reinhardt Page B

Rent, Cabaret , and the original Broadway production of Camelot were stacked on top of the other CDs on the shelf.
    He glanced up as she backed out of the room. “Quite an eclectic music collection,” he said, following her to the kitchen to accept a plate of eggs.
    “There’s really not much he doesn’t like when it comes to music.” She was grateful he still seemed to be in a good humor. Either that or he was concealing any anger remarkably well. “Maybe not twangy country so much, and he’s not into hip-hop, but he likes rap. For some strange reason, this spring, he discovered Broadway musicals.”
    “I saw the CDs. What’s that about?” Liam set his plate on the table, then held her chair while she sat.
    She smiled over her shoulder at the courtly gesture, remembering how he’d always been such a gentleman around her. It still made her heart beat faster. “It’s a weird phenomenon. He cycles through music, really getting into something for a while, then moving on. Over the winter, it was Ben Folds and classic rock like the Beatles and the Stones. After his school put on Guys and Dolls in April, suddenly he was all about Broadway. Cabaret , Rent —even The Music Man .” She laughed. “He sings with the CDs in the car, so conversation is out of the question.”
    Liam grinned, shaking his head as he dug into breakfast. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.
    Carrie inclined her head toward the album sitting on the table near him. “That’s for you.”
    “Really?” Liam hefted the album. “Are these pictures of Jack?”
    She nodded, taking up a forkful of eggs.
    He opened it. Staring at the first page, he ran a finger over a photo of newborn Jack. He started to reach for his glasses in his shirt pocket and appeared puzzled for a second when he realized he didn’t have either glasses or a pocket. Carrie got her own wire-framed reading glasses from the bar.
    “Here,” she handed them to him. “Try these, but eat. Your food will get cold.”
    Liam put them on, giving her a strange half-smile that sent a prickle up her spine. As he ate, he stared at the first page—Jack as a newborn in the hospital bassinette. Noah and Margie swinging a toddling Jack between them. Eliot smiling tenderly at the sleeping baby in his arms. She could tell he didn’t even taste the food, so absorbed was he in the photos. He didn’t comment at all, just kept studying the pictures, almost as if he were trying to memorize them.
    Finishing the meal in record time, he carried the album to the window seat. “Thank you. That was good. Do you mind if I take a minute here?” His voice was raspy as he settled in, back propped against the wall, his long legs stretched out on the cushion.
    Carrie nodded as she sipped her coffee, mentally preparing herself for whatever reaction might come as he slowly turned the pages of the album. With his head bent over the book and her reading glasses perched on his nose, he concentrated on each page, examining each photo. Every so often, he’d pull a picture from its vinyl envelope and hold it up to the window. Fifteen minutes later, he shut the album, hugging it against his chest. Removing her glasses, he laid them carefully on the window seat beside him.
    Carrie watched him cautiously, unwilling to be the first one to speak.
    His face was closed up—no smile, nothing. A muscle worked in his jaw, his lips tightened into a grim line. Massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he took a deep breath. “He plays the piano?” His voice was deadly quiet.
    “Yes.”
    “How long has he played?”
    “Since he was little.” She raked her fingers through her curls. “He’s very gifted, Liam. He’s–he’s a–prodigy.” The word wrenched from her.
    “Shit, Carrie!” Liam burst out. “When were you planning on mentioning that ?”
    “I’m telling you now.” Her hands shook. The eggs churned in her stomach. She swallowed once and then swallowed again.