Vaughn leaned into the table. “Most of my kids are local. The rest came back early for the concert. They moved into the dorms Sunday.”
Audra smiled her relief. “Then it sounds like you can get started.”
Vaughn nodded. “How soon can you get the sheet music to me?”
Audra pulled a folder from the oversized canvas tote bag on the floor beside her feet. “I have it now. It’s a pretty simple piece.” She passed it across the table to Vaughn. “All you need is someone to sing it.”
“Why don’t you do it?” Jack made the question sound like a dare.
Audra met the challenge in his onyx eyes. “I’m not a singer.”
“You sound like one.” Jack’s look said he wasn’t backing down.
Neither was Audra. “Being able to hold a note and being able to sing are two separate things.”
Doreen joined the debate—unfortunately, on Jack’s side. “Audra, if Jack says you can sing, then you can sing. We’d love to include you as part of our Founders Day Celebration.”
If they were alone, she’d reach over and pinch Jackson Elijah Sansbury really hard. But there were so many lunch patrons in the bakery area; too many witnesses to cause a scene. She glared at him, instead. “Doreen, I’m not a performer.”
Doreen chuckled. “The Trinity Falls sesquicentennial isn’t a ‘Night at the Apollo.’ It’s just a small-town celebration.”
Audra wasn’t buying it. “The town’s residents have been planning for and anticipating this event for more than a year. They deserve someone who can do the song justice.”
“And who’s better at that than the songwriter?” Vaughn added his voice to the pressure mounting against Audra. And he’d seemed so rational.
Audra gave Jack a look that said, I’ll get even with you. He met her gaze with innocence. She shifted her attention to Doreen and Vaughn. “Doesn’t the town or at least the university have a glee club or something, people who enjoy singing in public?”
“The university has a choir,” Doreen offered.
“They perform classical and gospel songs,” Vaughn explained. “As you know, those are very different types of music.”
“Audra.” Jack’s voice was as compelling as a spell. “You can do this.”
She made one last effort at resistance. “I haven’t performed since high school.”
Jack just smiled. “You’re a different person now. You’re more confident, more accomplished. This is a different situation. It’s a chance to be part of something big and historical. No one’s here to judge you. We just want to enjoy your music.”
Audra looked from Jack to Doreen and Vaughn. There was hope in their eyes. Jack was right. This was a momentous opportunity. She didn’t want to sit on the sidelines if she could be a part of it. “All right. I’ll share the stage with you.”
Jack gave her his slow, sexy smile, the one that curled her toes against her sandals. “Thank you.”
Doreen leaned over to hug her. “Audra, this is wonderful. Wonderful! Thank you so much.”
“The kids are going to be pumped.” Vaughn’s grin brightened his lean features. “Thank you.”
Audra wished she could share their enthusiasm. Maybe later. Right now, her mouth was dry from nervousness. Trinity Falls had moved the boundaries of her comfort zone. Permanently. Audra didn’t know whether she deserved the look in Jack’s eyes—admiration, gratitude, and something indefinable.
The university felt different now that Quincy had left campus. Darius allowed muscle memory to lead him to his friend’s former office, now the office of the stubborn Dr. Peyton Harris. Classes wouldn’t start for another three weeks. Campus was deserted, except for staff members, and the handful of students and faculty on summer programs. Quincy had spent four years of his career on this campus, and—except for his undergraduate and graduate studies—his whole life in Trinity Falls. Darius would miss being able to see his friend every day. Still, he was happy for Quincy. He had a great opportunity at the University of Pennsylvania, and he’d won Ramona’s heart, the woman of his dreams. Ean also had found his soul mate in Megan. Darius was pleased for both men.
He stopped in the office’s open doorway. It was probably safe to assume the woman seated behind the wood laminate desk was Peyton Harris. She’d sounded taller on the phone.
Darius knocked twice in rapid succession. “Dr. Harris?”
Peyton popped out of her chair like a fawn flushed from the bushes. She stared at him, wide-eyed with surprise. “Who are you?”
Darius crossed into the office, mistaking Peyton’s question as permission to enter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Darius Knight from The Trinity Falls Monitor. We spoke earlier this morning.”
The room was cleaner than it had been in the four years Quincy had called it “home away from home.” It was brighter, less cluttered, and no longer stank of stale coffee.