He paused. "Might be nice to just be Shelby for a little while, don't you think?"
"Actually? I think it'd be good for me to get reacquainted with her, yes."
"You really think nobody's going to recognize you out there?"
Shelby stood and walked to the mirror, where she looked at her face for a long moment. "You know what? I'm not sure even you would recognize me right now, Morris."
"Impossible."
"I'm serious." She touched her face, leaning close to check out her eye color again. "It's like I disappeared. Or reappeared, I guess. Did you know I have green eyes?"
Morris laughed. " 'Course I do. They match your daddy's. Just like that gimpy pinky finger you both have."
Shelby swallowed hard as she stretched her right hand out in front of her. Dad had passed down his double-jointed pinky to her-great party trick, but not always so great for the guitar.
"Don't worry. That finger never slowed him down. Won't hurt you, either."
"I know."
"You ever play a real guitar anymore?"
Shelby paused, eyes automatically locking on the guitar in the corner of the bedroom. She'd picked it up on the way out of the house, unable to leave it behind with everything else. It was Daddy's favorite-the one with the beat-up case and stories in the strings. It was the one he'd had on his lap for all those tour-bus miles long ago, the one he'd strummed and plucked while leaning over to write down notes and lyrics … the one he'd used to teach her how to play.
She cleared her throat. "Not really, no."
"Well, that's okay. Your new sound is good, too."
"Morris?" Shelby felt her eyebrows creep upward.
"Yeah?"
"You can't bullshit a bullshitter."
He laughed out loud, then sobered. "One of your dad's favorite lines."
"I know." She closed her eyes, leaning on the bureau for support. "So how are things going with Daddy's … whatever's happening?"
"All okay. Don't worry about a thing."
Right. His house was in foreclosure, Morris was packing up anything that could be auctioned, and still, Shelby wasn't sure that would clear the debts he'd left behind.
"Thank you, Morris. He wouldn't want anybody else to do-this. What you're doing."
"I know, honey. And it's killing me to do it, but don't you worry. I'm saving anything I can."
She sniffed. Dammit, hold it together. "If you find the old videos-the ones of him and I singing … with Mom-can you please make sure they don't get into the wrong hands?"
Morris was silent for so long that Shelby pulled her phone away from her ear, afraid she'd lost the connection. But then he cleared his throat.
"I've been with your daddy for a long time, sweetie. I know what needs hiding, okay?"
-
"Good God, what is that smell?" Half an hour later, Cooper put one hand over his nose as he looked out the window toward Shelby's cabin, where he could see a plume of smoke billowing out the kitchen window.
He was out the door before he knew he'd moved, and on her porch two seconds later, banging on the screen door. She didn't immediately answer, so he took a deep breath and pushed through it, walking right into a wall of smoke.
"Shelby?" He squinted, trying to see through the clouds, spotting her by the stove, fire extinguisher in her hands.
"Right here," she said, her voice defeated and small as she set the extinguisher on the counter and reached over the sink to open the window wider.
"You okay? What happened?"
He saw her start to answer, then eye him suspiciously as she lifted the extinguisher again. "Who are you?"
"Cooper." He pointed toward his cabin. "I'm staying next door. We met last night."
He backed up, feeling the fear emanate from her whole body as she probably wondered how he knew who she was-or if he knew who she was. "Kyla told me your name yesterday, but that's all I know, if it matters. So … are you all right?"
Her shoulders slowly fell an inch, but her grip stayed tight. "I'm okay. Just having a little disagreement with the stove here."
She closed her eyes tightly and pointed to where one frying pan was still smoking, and another had a layer of unrecognizable black paste inside.
"I guess I don't need to ask who's winning."
"Thank you, no."
"Do you always have this effect on appliances?"
"No, but I don't usually pick fights with them quite this early in the morning."
"Good strategy, sounds like."