A few minutes later she asked, “Why would anyone want to be famous?”
She sounded so bewildered Michael wished he had a good answer for her. “Some people crave fame,” he said.
Noah concurred. “They love the adulation.”
“I don’t.”
“We know,” Nick said. “That’s yet another reason we all love you.”
? ? ?
BY THE TIME THEY REACHED NATHAN’S BAY, ALL ISABEL WANTED WAS A BIG GLASS OF WATER
and a bed.
Michael had decided to sleep in one of the larger bedrooms with a king-size bed, but Isabel chose to sleep in the room on the third floor. It was cozy and comfortable.
She fell into bed, closed her eyes, and was sound asleep seconds later.
Following breakfast the next morning, Isabel had just opened her laptop and was looking for flights to Silver Springs when Judge Buchanan walked into the kitchen and invited her into his office for a “sit-down.” She knew what that meant. Dylan would say those very words whenever he wanted a private conversation with Kate or her, and once they were alone, he would begin by insisting that he wasn’t going to tell her what to do, when, in fact, he ended up doing exactly that.
The judge was much more diplomatic. He asked her questions that made her reevaluate her decision to fly home right away. He suggested she stay for at least a week, preferably two, meet with the entertainment attorneys on Nathan’s Bay—they should come to her, not the other way around, he insisted—and if she wanted, he would read the contracts before she signed anything. It was an offer she couldn’t turn down.
The day was productive. She talked to Xavier for over an hour. He knew the two attorneys Nick had recommended and told her they were both honest and ethical. Which was a rarity in the business, he claimed. He wanted to record one of her songs as soon as possible, and she gave him permission to go ahead. They would work out the details later. They settled on an amount—she thought it was way too much—and within the hour the money was deposited in her account.
It seemed to Isabel that every minute in Xavier’s life was scheduled. He couldn’t work on recording with her for at least ten, maybe twelve, weeks, but she promised she would be available.
All she needed was the time and the place.
Xavier didn’t seem to be in a hurry to end the call. He explained before she could ask. “Talking to you helps me relax.”
“Aren’t you getting any sleep?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “I’ve been working hard lately. I’d like to think about something other than music for a few minutes. Tell me, are you involved with Michael Buchanan?”
The question jarred her. “What makes you think I would be involved with him?”
“The way he looked at you and the way you looked at him the night of the concert.”
“But you were only with him . . . with us for a few minutes.”
“So, are you?”
She laughed. “I don’t know.”
Before he could ask any more probing questions, she changed the subject. “Want to hear about my trip to the Highlands? It might put you to sleep.”
“Sure. Tell me all about it.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic, and she thought she heard him yawn.
“Do you like clowns?”
“What?”
She repeated the question and then told him all about her encounter with Freya Harcus and the freaky-looking clown painting that resembled the woman. When she described the drive up the mountain and how Freya had jumped out of the car screaming profanities. Xavier couldn’t stop laughing.
“It really wasn’t funny at the time,” she insisted.
When he calmed down, he said, “It’s the way you told it. The next time I’m feeling wiped out, I’m going to call you and ask you to tell me about the clown look-alike.”
“Glad I could help.”
After talking to Xavier, she was in a great mood. Then Michael came along and ruined it. She was sitting in the sunroom writing questions she wanted to be sure to ask the attorneys she would be interviewing when Michael walked in and said those four dreaded words.
“We need to talk.”
She guessed there was no getting out of it. She knew this was coming. They were back in Boston, and Michael needed to get on with his life. As to that, so did she.
She wondered how he would react if she declined, then decided to find out. “Maybe later.”
He smiled as he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He didn’t let go of her hand, and he didn’t say another word until they had walked all the way down to the shore and were headed back. They stopped beneath the giant tree with the arched branches she loved. The sun was setting, the breeze was light and warm, and Isabel thought it might be a perfect evening if Michael wasn’t glaring at her.