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“Right. The band’s here. They’re ready to go. They just need a singer.”
And why was Jaime just standing there? What did he have to do with this?
“We just heard from her manager,” Brodie said. “Lorelei wants the show to go on. We just need you to take her place.”
Both men stared at her. “Me?Are you out of your mind? No way. No. Not a chance.”
“No one else can do it, Grace.” Brodie held firm. He wasn’t pleading, he wasn’t even nervous. He just knew what had to be done and was here to accomplish the task. “I’ve got two thousand people in the meadow and a camera crew fromEntertainment Todayfilming. I’ve got to give them a show.”
“No one can replace Lorelei Calloway.”
“Except you. You know the songs, and you’ve got the vocal range. Besides, everyone knows the Singing Baker.” Brodie glanced over her shoulder.
She followed his gaze to the stage where roadies were setting up the equipment. The pink drum kit could be seen from a satellite.
“Yes, but I’m not her. I’m a novelty item. A fun sideshow if you happen to be at the festival. Trust me, no one”—she gestured wildly to the meadow—“came to see a pastry chef perform. They’ll come at me with pitchforks.”
“They came to be entertained. And you’re the only one who can do that.” Brodie looked her right in the eyes. “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars to do it.” He wasn’t playing.
Oh, damn. She sure could use that money. “You don’t get it. It’s not just about singing her songs. The reason those people are here tonight is because Lorelei sings from her heart. She lives the lyrics, and the melody is part of her. No one can take her place.”
“She asked for you.” Jaime finally spoke.
And it irritated the crap out of her. “What are you doing here?” What business was it of his?
“I’m the one her manager contacted. She figured you’d say no, so she asked me to talk to you.”
“Well, she was wrong.”You don’t have that influence over me anymore.
“What will it take?” Brodie asked.
“This isn’t about money.” How could they not see that? “I can’t do her songs justice. I’ll get booed off the stage.”
“Would you do it for a hundred and seventy-two thousand dollars?” Jaime asked.
That fucking fucker. He knew the exact number that would motivate her.
A horrible feeling settled in her stomach, weighing so heavily it nearly buckled her knees.
The only reason he’d make sure she got her money back was to appease his stupid guilt.
This is his send-off.
Thanks for a great summer. Here’s a token of my appreciation for the good time.
But of course, she knew him better than that. He wasn’t cruel. Just messed up.
It was an apology for hurting her. An acknowledgment that he wasn’t ready for a relationship and a loving gesture to make her whole again.
As if money could even touch what he’d given her.
But she did need it. It would give her the freedom to make the choice that was right for her. Not Ian. Not her parents. Not even Jaime.
She looked him right in the eye and said, “You know I will.”
The tour bus looked nothing like Grace had expected. She’d imagined dark paneled walls, tinted windows, polished tables, and a modern kitchen. Instead, the interior was pure kitsch. The banquette was pink, the appliances cherry red, and the floor a black-and-white parquet.
She met with the band at the white Formica table to go over the playlist. The bass player kept scraping his fingers through his hair and the drummer’s red-rimmed eyes were focused on the screen of her phone.
