Secrets in Summer(60)
“Listen,” he said. “You know what I told you tonight—that’s private. I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone else.”
“Of course, Nash.”
“Not even Jordan.”
“Not even Jordan,” she assured him.
12
The Women’s Chorus performed its tribute to Sylvia Marks on Wednesday evening. The church was packed and to her surprise, Darcy spotted Mimi and Clive in one row and Willow seated at the back. She’d told Nash not to come—he’d be bored, she told him. The music was sappy. The truth was, she didn’t have a strong voice and was afraid of embarrassing herself in front of him.
But there, seated in the back row, was Nash. And his presence made her feel—lifted up. Something like a golden lantern lit up inside her, something about the sight of him made her feel warm and glowing.
The group had never sung better, Darcy thought, and she knew most of the audience, island people who had treasured Sylvia. She was only slightly nervous when she stepped forward to sing the solo. The lyrics by Johnny Mercer were haunting, and when she sang, she saw several women silently weeping.
When the concert was over and people headed for the reception, Nash gave her a thumbs-up sign and slipped away. So did most of the people with jobs and children. It was an older crowd who stayed to enjoy the homemade cookies and peach-flavored punch. They complimented Darcy and Beth O’Malley, their leader, and some gathered in clusters to retell stories about Sylvia and her devotion to birds.
The crowd was thinning out when Willow approached her.
“You were awesome,” she said. “I didn’t know you could sing.”
“I didn’t, either,” Darcy joked. “And I have no plans to sing a solo ever again. I’m surprised I didn’t drop dead from nervousness.” Willow wore a skirt with a sleeveless white blouse embroidered with small flowers. “You look so pretty tonight, Willow.”
The girl blushed. “I didn’t know what to wear. We don’t go to church much.”
“Darling girl, you were marvelous!” Mimi swept up to Darcy and kissed her.
Clive, behind Mimi, added, “Yes, Darcy. Well done.”
Clive had a way of looking at her that seemed warm and intimate, as if they shared a secret. Flustered, Darcy hurriedly put her arm around Willow, drawing her close.
“Clive, Mimi, I’d like you to meet Willow—”
“Willow Szweda.” Willow completed the introduction with the poise of one who had said it often before. “My stepfather’s family is Polish. When he adopted me, I took his name.”
“I’ll bet your parents call you Sweet Willow,” Mimi said, smiling at the young girl.
Willow smiled. “No, actually, I don’t think that’s happened.”
Darcy stepped in. “Willow is helping me at the library. She’s doing a couple of story hours every week. We’re so glad to have her. She’s amazing with the children, and we’ve got so many children registered we can scarcely keep up with the demand.”
“What fun to read children’s books,” Mimi said.
A twinge of guilt pinched Darcy. She’d promised to bring Mimi some children’s books to look at and had forgotten to do it.
“I wonder,” Mimi said to Willow, “would you consider reading to me? I don’t mean children’s books, I mean one of my old darlings like Dickens’s Great Expectations or Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. I’d pay you, of course. It’s just that my eyes get tired so easily at my age. That’s why I like children’s books, because the pictures are fascinating—plus I don’t have to keep the plot straight in my head. I used to keep a list of characters on a page that I also used as a bookmark, but now I keep losing the paper, finding it a month later, and wondering if these are people I should invite over for tea.”
Darcy and Willow laughed. Clive watched his grandmother with such open affection on his face it almost brought tears to Darcy’s eyes. She wished her grandmother could have met Mimi.
Clive shifted his gaze, catching Darcy in the act of staring at him. She blushed. He grinned at her, amused.
Really, he was rather gorgeous in a professorish sort of way. His hair was longer than most men wore theirs, and his chocolate-dark eyes made him seem sweet.
“Would you like to stop by my house for a drink?” Darcy found herself asking.
“Oh, thank you, darling, but I’ve got to get my tired old bones in bed.” Mimi took Clive’s arm for support.
Quickly, Willow said, “I’d be glad to read to you, Mrs. Rush. Any time.”
“Then we’ve got a plan.” Mimi patted Willow’s hand. “And please call me Mimi.” Reaching into her purse, she brought out her cellphone. “What is your number?”