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He gave her a look. “Just drop it.” He’d walked out then, leaving her to stare at his back.
Now, looking at Tamzin, her eyes somewhat steely, her mouth tight, Kate wondered what Tamzin thought about her relationship with Tom.
“Katydid?” Giancarlo asked her in a low voice, while her father chatted to her brother about the store.
She looked at him and frowned. “Sorry. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. It’s just Tom.”
“But I heard your father say it, too,” he said.
She reddened. “Well, Tom started it, and it became a kind of a fond joke.”
“Fond joke?” he said quizzically.
Kate shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Are you going to Ethan’s gig tonight?” her father asked. He sat at the end of the table, sipping his carton of specially fortified drink. She could see that he was trying to give some semblance of normality to this dinner, and she loved him for it.
“Ethan?” said Giancarlo. “Is this the Ethan who is your father’s friend?”
Kate nodded and, turning to her father, shrugged. “No, I’ll spend the evening with Giancarlo.”
“Why don’t you take him?” her father said. “He’d like O’Connor’s.”
She glanced at Giancarlo, searching for a reason that would put him and her father off. Her instinct told her it was a bad idea for many reasons. “We can stay home with you,” she said. “I’m not sure it’s Giancarlo’s thing, anyway.” She smiled at Giancarlo to ensure he understood there was no mean intent in her statement.
“On the contrary,” said Giancarlo. “I think I would like to listen to some of the music you grew up with.” He squeezed her hand. “You have only recently come to appreciate opera.”
“Opera?” said Tom, disbelief in his voice. “Kate likes opera?”
“I like all music,” said Kate. She could hear the defensive tone of her voice and sought to modulate it. “Opera is an important part of Western musical heritage.”
Tom grinned at her. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’ve never heard any opera,” said Tamzin. “Not really. I mean, I’m aware of it, but I don’t think I could name one.”
Kate turned her gaze to Tamzin. The words had been delivered in a tone that only hinted at mockery, but as she’d said them she had looked at Tom, as if she wanted him to share the joke. A metaphorical elbow in his side that symbolized how much she thought Kate’s interest was asinine.
“The four of us should go to Ethan’s gig tonight,” said Tom. He looked at his father. “That’s okay, right? You can always call us if you need to. We’ll only be gone for a couple of hours.”
“Sure, sure,” said her father. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably be fast asleep most of the time you’re away.”
She knew that wasn’t true, that his pain meds didn’t always help as much as they should, but she decided not to argue.
* * *
The pub was beginning to get crowded. They’d managed to secure a high table in the center and Kate felt a bit of relief at the thought they wouldn’t be in the front, in plain view of Ethan. Here, in the middle, there was at least some chance she could obscure herself behind the couple who had the table in front of her.
She could see Tom at the bar getting the drinks, Tamzin at his side to help him bring them back. It was that same student tending the bar that had been here the first night she’d arrived for her father’s birthday weekend. That night seemed years ago now, and she almost felt overwhelmed at how much had changed since then, and the wish that she could go back to that moment entered her mind. The student pressed one of the real ale taps forward, filling a glass, but still cast glances over to the stage where Ethan was tinkering a bit with the mike, oblivious to her gaze and every other woman’s in the pub. It was still fifteen minutes before he was due to play. He was wearing his usual dark jeans, black boots, and Henley and flannel shirt combination. The fedora was laying on the stool, ready for him to pick up.
“He is much younger than I expected,” Giancarlo said into her ear, startling her from her thoughts. “I thought you said he was your father’s friend.”
She tried to keep her expression casual, though she could feel herself redden. “He is,” she said in an even tone. “They share a love of music. My father used to always come to gigs here. Ethan used to play gigs here, too, years ago.”
“Your father played music?”
She widened her eyes. She’d never discussed her father’s music with him before. Against his involvement and love of opera and classical music, it just seemed, well, something that wouldn’t measure up. The realization brought her thoughts up short.
“Yes,” she said, slowly, as she decided what she would say, confused by the feelings that had just run through her mind. “He was in a band. My mother too. They toured around Connecticut and a bit of New York before Tom and I were born.”
