The Birthday List(24)

“It’s official. I have no musical talent.”

Two hours after I’d left Jimmy’s apartment, any hope of becoming a ukulele virtuoso was lost.

“Oh, I disagree.” Mia smiled. “You just need some practice. Let’s give that last chord one more try.”

“Okay.” I picked up the ukulele off my lap and carefully placed my fingers.

She adjusted my index finger. “Move this one here.”

I strummed the strings, and for the first time, the sound that came from my instrument was actually melodic. My eyes shot up to Mia’s as a huge smile spread on my face. “I did it!”

“See? No musical talent,” she scoffed. “Practice makes progress.”

I liked that. Progress. Not perfect.

I strummed the strings again, then set down the instrument, wanting to end my lesson on a good note. “Thank you so much, Mia.”

“You’re welcome. Let me get you a few things. Sit tight.” She set down her own ukulele and stood, disappearing into the back room.

My eyes wandered over the small, square space. Three guitars hung on the far wall, and the two perched in the corner were covered in bright patterned scarves. At my side was a black upright piano—the top covered with colorful frames and pictures of happy students. The floral couch I was sitting on took up the other free wall, leaving just enough space for the wooden chair Mia had positioned in the middle of the room so she could sit across from me during our lesson.

Mia’s music studio was as eclectic as its owner.

I’d found Mia Crane through Google. She’d had so many five-star reviews for her guitar lessons I hadn’t hesitated to ask if she’d be my ukulele instructor, and when I’d pulled up to her house an hour ago, I’d known I’d made the right choice.

Mia had been waiting for me to arrive, standing barefoot on her front porch. One look at her carefree smile and the nerves I’d had about these lessons had vanished. She’d wrapped me in a hug instead of a handshake, then led me to her music studio—this small, cute building she’d built next to her home.

“Okay, pretty Poppy.” Her singsong voice preceded her as she came out from the back.

Pretty Poppy. My family had called me that as a child too.

The light scent of eucalyptus and cucumber lotion returned with Mia. Her long brown hair was braided loosely over one shoulder, and the number of bangles strung up one arm was nearly as impressive as her enormous hoop earrings.

“You can take that ukulele home.” She set down a black case on the couch. “Here is a case and I included some notes on what to practice this week.”

“Thank you.” I stood and smoothed down my black shift dress. “I really appreciate you taking me as a student.” She’d told me when I’d called that she was full but she’d find a way to squeeze me in.

“My pleasure. I love all my kids, but having adult students can be so much fun. Once we get you through the basics, we can jam.”

I laughed. I’d never heard a ukulele “jam” before, but if anyone could make it cool, it was Mia Crane.

“Have you been teaching for long?” I asked as I packed up the instrument.

“For years. Ever since my kids started kindergarten. I was so bored and lonely while they were at school I decided to start teaching guitar during the day.”

“Do your kids play?”

“My daughter.” Her eyes softened. “Evie’s a music teacher at the high school now. But I never have been able to convince my son. He was always too active in sports and wasn’t really interested.”

A car door slammed outside and Mia’s smile got so big I couldn’t help but smile back. “Speak of the devil. I guilted him into coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Then I’ll get out of your hair.” I snapped the case closed and looped my purse over my forearm. “See you next week?”

“I’ll be here. And if you ever need to adjust your schedule for the restaurant, just let me know. It’s just me and my husband these days and he’s always working.” She grinned. “We can do a lesson later in the evening. I’ll supply the wine.”

I smiled. “I’d like that. And I’ll bring the chocolate.”

“I knew I liked you.”

We both were laughing as we stepped through the door from her studio onto the pathway that led toward the front of her house.

“Mom?” a man’s voice called from around the porch.

My feet stilled and my smile faltered. I knew that voice.

“Back here, Cole!” Mia yelled.

Cole was Mia’s son?

Yep. He sure is.

He rounded the corner of the house and stopped. The shock on his face mirrored mine, but he recovered first.

“Hey.” Surprise morphed into a slow grin as his eyes locked with mine and he started toward us again. He wasn’t wearing his normal sunglasses today and his eyes were bright in the early-evening sun.

“Hi.” Damn that breath hitch! I sounded like a lovestruck teenager.

My body’s natural reaction to Cole was not in line with my mind. In the week since I’d seen him, I’d been trying to make sense of Cole Goodman. Of how he made me feel.

I’d been trying with no luck.

Cole brought up a lot of emotions that I wasn’t quite ready to explore.