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“Phil, as in after the mountain, Phil?” Bailey looked behind her, and there he stood. Big and proud as he always had been, right beside but slightly back from his twin sister. She’d always thought that was because he was looking out for her.
“Roxy has her own place too. The best pizza in town.”
“Nice, and thanks for the recommendation.”
“Name’s Mr. Goldhirsh.”
Manners were something she’d had hammered into her for many years, and while she wasn’t someone who liked small talk, it would be rude not to at least give him her name. It wasn’t a secret, after all.
“Bailey Jones.”
“You played last night at Apple Sours.”
“I did, yes.”
“I was there. You have a special talent, my dear. I saw you in concert three years ago in Carnegie Hall.”
“Thank you,” Bailey said. She had learned to accept compliments with a smile.
“I never give praise if it is not deserved.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“You exercise, Miss Jones?”
“Ah—well, define exercise?” She shot Mr. Goldhirsh a look. “I mean, I walk places, and sometimes I even put in a jog.” Bailey stretched the truth.
“I mean regular exercise, the kind that has you sweating?”
He was adjusting his pace and almost jogging on the spot now, hazel eyes alert as he studied her.
“I’m really not into sweating, so I guess that’s a fail, right?”
“Never too late. I could take you running with me, if you like? Plus, we have the Ryker run/walk club. Meets Saturday morning. We could swing by and pick you up.”
Bailey stopped and faced him.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know people, and you’re trustworthy. You have an honest face.”
Until she’d come to Ryker, Bailey had kept to bigger towns, driving wherever and whenever she wanted since leaving Boston. She hadn’t struck up conversations, or made friends, just kept to herself. She’d only been back in Ryker a few days, and already she’d become reacquainted with more people than she could remember.
“I don’t trust that easily,” Bailey said before she could stop herself. “So thanks, but I need to get going.”
She walked on, certain that would be the last conversation she had with Mr. Goldhirsh.
Turned out she was wrong.
“Trusting doesn’t come easy for people, that’s true, and considering your occupation and the fame attached, I should imagine you’ve had your trust challenged a time or two, but if you don’t allow people in, then you can’t know how trusting you can be.”
He was jogging beside her again.
“You don’t deter easily is my guess, Mr. Goldhirsh.”
His eyes crinkled.
“I was born in a concentration camp, Miss Jones. I do not have time to take offence or be deterred.”
