“That must have been hard. On all of you,” Maggie replied.
“I fear it was harder on Noah than he’d ever let on,” Mrs. Van Aller said.
Callie called up the memory of a thirteen-year-old Noah making her and Liv grilled cheese on Saturday afternoons, teaching them to tie their shoes, making sure Liv’s leotard made it in the laundry in time for ballet class. She’d never paused as an adult to consider how hard it must have been on him, how much extra responsibility he took on while his mother drowned in her grief. Because that was the part of the story Mrs. Van Aller had left out—how for over a year after her husband had passed, she could barely function for being so deep in her despair. Callie’s parents had helped out where they could, arranging for groceries and meals, giving Liv and Noah rides to school and playdates. But soon enough her parents were embroiled in their divorce and it had been Noah who kept the Van Aller house clean, who remembered when Liv needed something to bring to show and tell at school, who made sure his mother attended those ballet recitals. He never complained, at least not that she’d ever heard.
“He’s always taken care of us,” Liv said, smiling softly. Then, with a chuckle, “Not that he ever gives us a choice.”
“He’s delayed his own happiness on our account for far too long,” Mrs. Van Aller agreed. “At least he’s actually entertaining Wolf’s offer to work with him this time.”
“This time?” Callie asked.
“About ten years or so ago Wolf asked Noah to submit for his film on the Revolutionary War.”
“The one that was featured at Sundance?” Maggie asked.
“That’s the one,” Mrs. Van Aller confirmed. “He refused to even submit the sample.”
“Why?” Pattie asked.
Callie wanted to know as well. Scoring a major film was all Noah had ever talked about during those summers when he’d taught her to play the piano.
“He said it was pointless since he wasn’t going to take the job anyway. He would have had to move to California for a few months to work on the film and he said he couldn’t leave while I was still in school,” Liv explained.
Callie’s heart clenched, imagining a younger Noah turning down his dream job to take care of his sister and mother. It was so like him to put everyone else’s needs ahead of his own.
“But enough of this somber conversation! All is well! Wolf has come around with a new project and Noah and Callie… Well, I never thought he’d get his head out of his own backside long enough to see what the rest of us have always known.”
“What?” Callie asked, her voice barely a sound.
“I have always thought you two would make a fine couple,” Mrs. Van Aller said, shooting a conspiratorial glance Callie’s mother, who looked appalled.
“He’s eight years older than us,” Liv protested.
“Liam’s twelve years older than me,” Min said with a shrug.
“Of course, I didn’t think of it when you were younger,” Mrs. Van Aller tutted. “It wasn’t until you were all grown that I saw a spark. Don’t act so scandalized, Livi. And now you’re all adults, what’s a few years? Might I remind you that your fiancé is sixteen years older than you, and I myself am seeing a younger man.”
“Mom!” Liv gasped.
“Yes, let’s hear about that,” Pattie said, leaning forward with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Callie only heard pieces of the conversation as the others interrogated Mrs. Van Aller about her mysterious younger man (someone she’d met in her book club apparently). Her mind was stuck in a loop replaying what Mrs. Van Aller had said about seeing a spark between her and Noah years ago, about hoping they’d get together. Mrs. Van Aller was going to be so hurt when she found out it was all a lie. Callie should confess now, put an end to this whole thing.
But…what if Mrs. Van Aller was right? What if she and Noah were meant for each other? What if this week pretending could be the time she needed to stop being just his little sister’s best friend and start being…something else? She’d thought she had long ago given up the hope of ever having more with Noah, but now, she couldn’t help thinking maybe this was her last chance. If at the end of the week, he still didn’t feel anything for her, then she’d know it really was a lost cause and maybe she could finally stop fantasizing about a life where she was his.
Chapter 9
Callie hummed. All. The. Time.
It wasn’t something Noah noticed at first, but by the time they were driving to dinner on that second night and he was doing his best not to stare at the way her hair had been styled in gentle waves around her shoulders, the subtle makeup making her chocolate brown eyes look larger, it was all he could think about. It wasn’t in the same way Livi sang snippets of show tunes and car commercials under her breath. Callie hummed entire melodies—meandering, mournful tunes he’d never heard before but that called to mind misty mornings and acoustic guitars. Melodies that got stuck in his own head and drove him to distraction.
Daemon’s brother was hosting the second night of “family dinner” at his restaurant and Noah was glad for the opportunity to get out of the hotel. While the women had spent the day at the salon, he had passed the afternoon bent over his laptop putting the finishing touches on a new piece to show Wolf, a snippet of a theme that could work for the main titles if he could convince the producer to hire him. Noah had started out in his hotel room, but everything smelled like Callie. Citrus and rain, which was maddening because, if you’d asked him a week ago, he never would have said that rainhada smell. He couldn’t focus while engulfed in her scent.
Before long, he had moved to the restaurant just so he could think clearly. It was easier to compose in the restaurant anyway, he supposed, especially since the manager gave him permission to use the largely neglected baby grand piano in the corner of the room when it wasn’t in use for any other purpose. The playback feature on his notation software was top notch, but there was nothing like playing the piece himself, feeling the notes flow from his fingers onto the keys to give life to a song that had, until that point, existed solely in his own mind.
Of course, then the tune Callie had been humming while she got ready for the salon had popped into his head and he found himself improvising on her melody instead of working on his own piece. The woman was a distraction he could not afford.
“What is that?” Noah asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended, as he turned the car into the gravel parking lot of Lemon & Thyme.
