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“Well?”
“Well what?” She looked in the shop window again.
“Did you sing in the school choir?”
“No.”
“You’ve got a great voice, why not?”
“Is there a reason you’re asking me these questions?” He heard the frustration in her voice.
“I’ve met people in my life who don’t like sharing personal stuff, me included, but you’re the best at it. Stop hiding. Remember,” he tapped her head, “you’re strong in here.”
“What does my not singing in the choir have to do with that?” She kept her eyes on the window.
Hell if he knew.
“It’s part of changing who you are. You need to open up a bit more.”
“Like you do?”
Good point.
“We’re talking about you.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“I doubt that, but points for saying it,” he muttered, fishing into his pocket. “This is for you, by the way. It’s the key to my gym.”
She held out her hand, and he dropped it into her palm.
“I’m very grateful to you for allowing me to do this. I don’t know why, but I would like to use it.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you in there, Mandy. If you come tomorrow, I’ll run you through a basic program.”
“Really?” She smiled, and it was always such a shock for Ted, as he saw it so rarely.
“Really.”
She looked at the key.
“My father was an entertainer. I got my voice from him.” She said the words in that tight, controlled voice she used sometimes.
“Yeah? Was he famous?”
“No. He just used to sing in a nightclub.”
“So you never got to listen to him. That’s rough.”
She turned back to look in the window again. “I used to go with him. It was just him and me, so he couldn’t leave me at home.”
“You went with him at night?”
“Yes.”
He knew she’d come to Ryker when she was young, nine or ten from memory. A nightclub was no place for a young girl, surely. He filed this small piece of information away, but didn’t push her for anything more.
“Why are you looking inside Timms’s Books window? They have something new in that you want?”
