Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters #2)

Was she asking a lot of Fox to try seeing himself in a new light? Wasn’t she in the process of doing that herself—and not finding it very easy? Maybe if she wanted this man to believe he could captain a ship and rely on his wit and humor and spirit alone, then she had to believe in herself first. She couldn’t ask him to reach for a higher summit if she wasn’t willing to reach herself.

The opening notes of “I Say a Little Prayer” by Aretha Franklin tumbled through Hannah’s head, and her eyes flew open, a grateful smile curving her lips. Hallelujah. The songs were back. Sure, the lyrics were a little alarming, considering she was lying in Fox’s bed, but maybe the whole song didn’t have to pertain to their relationship. Just some of it? Just the prayer parts, maybe?

Hannah swallowed. Why had the songs returned now? Had listening to Fox sing Henry’s shanties last night shaken them loose? The beckoning of a new direction for her career? Or did the return of her music-minded thinking mean something else?

Reluctant to examine the possibilities too closely, Hannah allowed herself a long inhale of Fox’s scent, then unwound her arms from his neck, refusing to acknowledge the low pulse between her legs or the flapping in her chest. Not today. Probably not ever.

She climbed off the bed, her back warmed by his attention, left the room, and went into the bathroom. Once she’d showered, dressed, and blown out her hair, she stopped in the living room, hesitating a moment before picking up the folder full of original sea shanties and holding them to her chest. With Fox nowhere in sight, she left the apartment, returning once for an umbrella due to the clouds moving in overhead. But instead of heading down to today’s shooting site, she let the hook in her gut pull her toward the record store, instead.

*

Hannah sighed when Disc N Dat came into view, nondescript and lacking in any signage, the blue Christmas lights adorning the window the only indication that it was open for business.

Last summer, she’d taken a part-time job at the record store. Mainly to add enough money to their budget that Piper wouldn’t have to cook anymore and potentially burn the building down. But she’d also needed a way to occupy herself so Piper wouldn’t feel terrible about spending more time with Brendan. Throw in the fact that Hannah lived for records, and it had been the perfect short-term gig.

A sense of familiarity settled over Hannah when her hand curled around the bronze handle and pulled, the smell of incense and coffee wafting out and beckoning her into the musty haven. She was relieved, especially today, to see that nothing had changed. Disc N Dat was still reliably dated and welcoming, the same posters that had been there over the summer still pinned to the wall, row after row of Christmas lights twinkling on the ceiling, Lana Del Rey rasping quietly from the recessed speaker.

The owner, Shauna, walked out from the tiny back room, face buried in a coffee mug, appearing almost startled to have a customer. “Hannah!” She brightened, setting her cup down on a console table that displayed her beaded jewelry and dream catchers. “I was wondering when you’d finally stop by.”

“Sorry it took me so long.” They embraced in the center of the aisle—the kind of hug one gives the person who talked them through their first typhoon. “I really don’t have any excuse.” Hannah turned in a circle, absorbing her surroundings. “I think I was worried if I came back in here, I would quit my job on the spot and beg to get this one back.”

“Well, I’ll save you the trouble. We’re not hiring, seeing as how we’ve only had two customers since the last time you were here.”

Hannah blew out a laugh. “I hope they were quality, at least?”

“Those who manage to find us usually are,” Shauna said, grinning. “So what’s new with you?”

Oh, not much. Just in the process of realizing I have feelings for a man who is the definition of unavailable.

“Mmmm. Work, mostly.” She walked her fingers along the plastic record sleeves of the B section. B.B. King, the Beatles, Ben Folds, Black Sabbath. But her head came up when Lana’s voice faded out and a series of notes opened the next song—were those fiddles? Followed by the ominous pound of a drum. Then came the voice. The gravelly female call to attention that made the hair on Hannah’s arms stand up.

“Who is this?”

Shauna pointed to the speaker questioningly, and Hannah nodded. “This is the Unreliables. My cousin’s girlfriend is the lead singer.”

“They’re local?”

“Seattle.”

Now this music would be perfect for Glory Daze. Replacing the industrial sound with the dramatic pound of the drum, the rush of emotion in the singer’s voice, the folk element of the fiddles. It would bring the small-town story to life. Give the film more than just texture—this sound would give it character.

Only when Shauna came up beside Hannah did she realize she’d been staring into space. “What’s in the folder?”

“Huh?” In confusion, she looked down to find Henry’s collection of shanties beneath her arm. She’d brought them along to show Brinley, one music lover to another, hoping it might be a way to bond with the music coordinator. “Oh. These are, um . . . sea shanties. Original ones that were written by my father when he was still alive. Most of them are just words on the page. I’d have to go digging with the locals to learn the tunes, but I’m guessing it would sound something like this.” She pointed at the ceiling. “Like the Unreliables . . .”

Hannah murmured that last part, because a light bulb had started flashing in her brain. She looked down at the folder, flipping it open and leafing through page after page of lyrics with no music. But what if . . . music could be added? The lyrics were deep and heartfelt and poetic. Compelling. They’d made Henry feel real to Hannah. What if she could take it one step further and bring his music to life?

Was that a crazy idea?

“Weird question for you,” she said to Shauna. “How well do you know the Unreliables? Would they be willing to”—what did she even call this?—“collaborate? I have these songs from my father, and I’d love to add music like theirs, add a voice—and they would be perfect. I only have the words, obviously, so they’d have a lot of creative input . . .”

Oh boy.

Now that one light bulb had gone off, her whole head looked like Hollywood Boulevard at night. She’d gone days without inspiration, and now it was pouring in, all because of the faded blue folder in her hands.

Glory Daze took place in Westport.

Westport was Henry Cross.

How many times had she been told that?

Currently, the music soundtrack was made up of songs that already existed and that never felt right to Hannah. Music for another time and place that dulled the magic of this location. It dulled the impact of Westport as the backdrop. But what if the score was made up of songs written by the man who defined this place?

“You want to record them? Intriguing,” Shauna said, pursing her lips. “So you’d want them to add their own spin to the shanties. Lay down some tracks . . .”

“Yes. I mean, if they’re in Seattle, I could meet with them myself. Compensate them.” If there was ever a time to give in and use the family money available to her, this was it. And wow. All of this felt like leading-lady moves. But they felt good, so she took them one step further. “I’d like to have some input as well.”

Shauna nodded, seeming kind of impressed. “Let me reach out to my cousin to see if they’re available. But don’t count on them. It could be a dead end. They’re not called the Unreliables for nothing.”

“Right,” Hannah said wryly, closing the folder and running her hand over the front cover, getting more and more caught up in the idea, something telling her this was it. This was big. She’d only had the idea a minute ago and already ached to get started. To dive into the process she’d always watched from the wings. She could be a part of it. With her father. “Thanks.”

Shauna shuffled across the ancient floor and plopped herself down on a stool behind the counter. “Where have you been staying while you’re in town? With Brendan and Piper?”