The Lucky One(81)

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe. But the question is, will you do it?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. And you know you’re going to have to practice tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“It might be a long rehearsal. Friday rehearsals are always long. They really love their music, you know.”

“Great,” he said, and sighed.

“Look at it this way: You won’t have to work in the rain all day.”

“Great,” he said again.

She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man. I’ll be silently cheering for you in the pews.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and when Nana comes out, don’t let her know I told you.”

“I won’t.”

“And try to be more excited. Honored, even. Like you couldn’t imagine that you’d ever be offered such a wonderful opportunity.”

“I can’t just say yes?”

“No. Nana will want you to be thrilled. Like I said, it means a lot to her.”

“Ah,” he said again. He took her hand in his. “You do realize you simply could have asked me. I didn’t need the whole guilt-inducing story.”

“I know,” she said. “But it was a lot more fun to ask the other way.”

As if on cue, Nana stepped outside. She flashed a quick smile at both of them before wandering to the railing and turning toward him.

“Do you ever play the piano anymore?” Nana asked.

It was all Thibault could do not to laugh.

Thibault met with the music director the following afternoon, and despite her initial dismay at his jeans, T-shirt, and long hair, it didn’t take long for her to realize that Thibault not only could play, but was obviously an accomplished musician. Once he’d warmed up, he made very few errors, though it helped that the chosen musical pieces weren’t terribly challenging. After rehearsal, when the pastor showed up, he was walked through the service so he’d know exactly what to expect.

Nana, meanwhile, alternately beamed at Thibault and chattered away with her friends, explaining that Thibault worked at the kennel and was spending time with Beth. Thibault could feel the gazes of the women sweep over him with more than a little interest and, for the most part, approval.

On their way out the door, Nana looped her arm through his. “You were better than a duck on a stick,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said, mystified.

“Are you up for a little drive?”

“Where?”

“Wilmington. If we go now, I think I can have you back in time to take Beth to dinner. I’ll watch Ben.”

“What am I going to buy?”

“A sport jacket and chinos. A dressier shirt. I don’t mind you in jeans, but if you’re going to play the piano at the service on Sunday, you’re going to need to dress up.”

“Ah,” he said, recognizing at once that he had no choice in the matter.

That evening, while dining at Cantina, the only Mexican restaurant downtown, Elizabeth stared over her margarita at Thibault.

“You know you’re in like Flynn now,” she said.

“With Nana?”

“She couldn’t stop talking about how good you were, and how polite you were to her friends, and how respectful you sounded when the pastor showed up.”

“You make it sound like she expected me to be a troglodyte.”

She laughed. “Maybe she did. I heard you were covered in mud before you went.”

“I showered and changed.”

“I know. She told me that, too.”

“What didn’t she tell you?”

“That the other women in the choir were swooning.”

“She said that?”

“No. She didn’t have to, but I could see it in her face. They were. It’s not every day a young and handsome stranger comes into their church and dazzles them on the piano. How could they not swoon?”

“I think you’re probably overstating things.”

“I think,” she said, dabbing her finger on the rim of her glass and tasting the salt, “that you still have a lot to learn about living in a small southern town. This is big news. Abigail has played for fifteen years.”

“I’m not going to take her spot. This is temporary.”

“Even better. It’ll give people a chance to pick sides. They’ll talk about it for years.”

“This is what people do here?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “And by the way, there’s no faster way to get accepted around here.”

“I don’t need to be accepted by anyone but you.”

“Always the sweet talker.” She smiled. “Okay, how about this? It’ll drive Keith crazy.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a member of the church. In fact, Ben will be with him when he sees you. It’ll kill him to see how much everyone appreciates the way you pitched in to help.”

“I’m not sure I want him any angrier. I’m already worried about what he’s going to do.”

“He can’t do anything. I know what he’s been up to.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Thibault cautioned.