“C Major is made up of three notes. You put your pointer finger on the first fret of the B string, middle finger on the second fret of the D string, and ring finger on the third fret of the A string. Then, strum from the A string down.”
He strummed, and the pleasant harmony floated out from the hardwood frame. The kids erupted intooohs andaahs.
It seemed to make Brinton marvel too, which made Jamie smile even wider. They’d been exchanging amused glances as she and Sammi watched from a plush beige couch in the far corner.
After yesterday’s Turkey Bay trip, Jamie had told Brinton everything about his songwriting deal. Now, it was like a weight had been lifted. They still had a little over a week of interviews left, but he could handle anything now. At least, he hoped he could.
“Mr. Jamie, show us again,” shouted Freddie, a redhead with a bowl cut, through his gapped teeth.
Jamie had explained the same chord five different times, but he didn’t care if it meant he’d get to see Brinton’s eyes glinting with wonder.
Err, so long as thekidswere happy.
Jamie passed Freddy the guitar. “Why don’t you give it a try?”
He helped Freddie get positioned, genuinely sentimental as the curved body dwarfed the boy’s slight frame.
“Looks great on you,” Jamie said. He slipped the strap over Freddie’s tiny shoulders, like his mother had once done for him. “Remember what I taught you?”
“Uh-huh,” Freddie squawked. Jamie tenderly guided Freddie’s slim fingers into place. Finally, he strummed, replicating the same harmony Jamie had moments before.
“Atta boy,” Jamie said, laughing right along with Freddie.
When he flicked his eyes at Brinton, she was giggling and writing in her notebook. From above, shelves of his father’s industry awards cast a golden aura around her. She was a rarity that belonged in the Louvre. He could admire her all?—
“Mr. Jamie, look what I can do,” Freddie squealed before strumming hard and fast across all six strings at once. Three popped instantly from the assault. Jamie winced, his heart a balloon pricked with a pin as the other children bellowed in unison.
“I’m so sorry,” Freddy sobbed. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s all right, buddy. Please don’t cry,” Jamie said, rubbing Freddie’s back. He lifted the guitar from the child’s shaking shoulders.
Shit happened, and these kids had been through enough in their lives. Scolding anyone did more harm than good. Jamie knew from experience.
“Sometimes, you gotta break things to learn something new,” Jamie cooed.
Sammi sprung into crisis mode, crossing to where the kids sat. In her five-inch cork wedges, she crouched to their level. Her periwinkle sundress swished at her knees. “How about we go into the kitchen? I think Liza whipped up some ice-cream for y’all.”
Freddie’s tears magically dried. The children cheered as they leaped to their feet and followed her through the narrow door. Over her shoulder, Sammi winked at Jamie.
“You’re welcome,” she trilled.
Jamie nodded gratefully, then turned his attention to his guitar. He was a wartime doctor assessing a wounded soldier. Definitely on life support.
Brinton crossed to him slowly. “I’m sorry about your guitar.”
Rising from the floor, he laughed to himself, shaking hishead. “Serves me right for bringing it out, but it’s my favorite. A seventh birthday present from Cash.”
“As in Johnny Cash?” Brinton asked, eyes darting between him and the mangled guitar.
“The very one.”
He laid it on a table, then sat in a rolling chair at the expansive soundboard. “But nothing I can’t fix.”
He gestured to the matching chair at his side, and she eased onto it.
“I forgot to thank you for this during our drive yesterday,” she said, holding up her voice recorder. “You’re way too kind. I don’t deserve it.”
Her words wrapped around him like a blanket fresh from the dryer. “You’re welcome, but I think you do.”
