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“It makes sense,” Alana said. “Julia and I were never half as cool as Ella.”
“You were literally a model,” Julia reminded Alana.
“Models aren’t cool,” Alana explained. “My entire life was structured around how I looked to people, how I acted in front of them, and whether people liked me or not. It was exhausting. Ella, on the other hand, always preferred to be in her studio, writing music instead of considering what anyone else thought of her. From what I’ve learned about Will over the last year or so, he’s exactly the same way.”
Laura eyed her mother adoringly. “But as I was growing up, all my friends’ parents were breaking up and getting divorced. And mine were just always writing and performing music together. Danny and I never doubted that our parents’ relationship was strong.”
Ella sipped her mojito, remembering the horrific time after Will had moved out of the apartment they’d raised their children in. Laura and Danny had been mystified, as it had gone against their clear knowledge that Will and Ella had been made for each other. They’d been right. The separation had been insane— but it had taught them a much-needed middle-aged lesson.
‘Every time I walk through the residency, you and Will are in that music studio,” Julia said.
Ella laughed. “We’ve been a little obsessive about writing music lately. We want to premier new material at the festival.”
“Exciting!” Alana said.
“The rest of our band arrives the weekend before the festival. Lucky them, we have so much new material to teach them,” Ella went on. “It’s just like the old days when we toured as a band. Will and I always came up with new songs in the middle of the night and asked that they learn their parts in just a couple of hours so we could perform them. In retrospect, it was crazy. I can’t believe they didn’t kill us.”
“Sounds like rock and roll to me,” Julia said.
Ella laughed. “Now that we’re in our forties, I hope our bandmates don’t kill us for throwing too much material at them.”
“Naw,” Laura said. “They just can’t wait to play all together again.”
“Agreed,” Julia said. “I never understood why the only bands who became famous were twenty-somethings who hadn’t lived yet. I want to hear songs written by forty-, fifty-, sixty-, and seventy-somethings, people who’ve loved and lost and gone through time.”
“Are you suggesting that Ella and Will are about to enter their most artistically riveting years?” Alana asked with a sneaky smile, as though she were being sarcastic. Ella could never tell.
“You’re laughing, but I actually am,” Julia said. “All that to say, I’m excited for you, Ella.”
Ella raised her shoulders, too optimistic not to add, “We might have a small tour this upcoming autumn. After Danny and Laura head to school.”
“What!” The three of them shrieked, happier than Ella had seen them in a while, then waved the server back to their table to order more drinks, set on having a celebratory night.
“My darling little sister is going back on the road!” Alana cried.
“We have to come to see you perform somewhere,” Julia said. “Somewhere epic. A big show in New York, maybe.”
“Our biggest fan base is in Seattle,” Ella said. “You should come out there. The crowds will be rocking.” Even as she said it, she pictured those gorgeous evenings they would share, with thousands and thousands of people before them, chanting their names and singing the lyrics to their songs. Oh, how she adored touring! How she’d missed it!
After dinner, the four of them wandered through downtown, chatting, window-shopping, and people-watching as the sunlight dimmed over the water and cast the island in darkness. Ella walked behind Laura and Julia, who discussed a book Julia was editing for the publishing house, and Ella felt calmed by their voices, so grateful that her daughter had befriended her immediate family.
When they rounded a street corner, Ella’s ears pricked up at the sound of a guitar. “Do you hear that?” In the distance, a voice like a siren’s beckoned for her, stirring along the strumming of the guitar.
“Um. Sort of?” Alana said, giving Ella a funny look.
“Let’s go find whoever’s playing,” Ella suggested, turning on her heel and going in the opposite direction. Her sisters and daughter could do nothing but follow down the alley, back onto Main Street, then up and around the harbor. All the while, the music got louder, more passionate, as though it crawled through Ella’s ears just to tug on her heartstrings.
“It sounds amazing!” Alana said, barely keeping up with Ella. “But do we have to sprint to it?”
Ella laughed. “I just don’t want her to stop before we make it!”
Eventually, Ella found the source of the sound. It was coming from a little dive bar with a view of the water, one that was normally quiet, with just a few locals enjoying beers. Now, nearly fifty people clambered around the bar, straining to get a look at whoever sang and played. Disappointed, Ella stalled behind the crowd, frowning, as the songstress’ voice lifted operatically into the night.
“Wait a minute,” Ella breathed, turning her head to look at her sisters and daughter. “I think this is Aurora!”
Laura laughed. “Really?”
Whoever sang inside the bar had switched songs seamlessly, shifting keys to sing a song everyone knew well: “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman. Ella groaned as everyone in the crowd sang along, obliterating the sound of the woman’s voice.
