A Winter Wedding. Brenda Novak

him with one odd request or another. “I’m listening.”

      “I was hoping you’d call my manager and ask for Crystal Holtree.”

      “Who’s Crystal Holtree?”

      “If you don’t know yet, you will within the next year. She’s another singer—Nashville’s new darling. Derrick manages her career, too.”

      “And you want to see if he’s managing a bit more than that.”

      Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. “Yes.”

      “Are you sure you should check up on him like this?”

      “My heart is telling me he’d never be unfaithful, but my head is telling me something else. I’m going crazy, becoming so insecure. I have to know if it’s him—or me.”

      He rubbed his chin as he thought about her request.

      “It’s just one phone call,” she said.

      “But he knows who I am.”

      “Okay, it’s one phone call and you’ll have to claim to be someone else.”

      “Like...”

      She spread out her hands. “Robin Graham.”

      “Who’s Robin Graham?”

      “No one. I made up the name. You could say you’re Robin Graham with Country Weekly or CMT and you’d like to interview Crystal. That’s all you’d have to do. He wouldn’t want her to miss that call. If she’s with him, he’ll hand over the phone, and if he hands over the phone, he’s been lying to me.”

      “But he has my cell number in his contacts. I put it in the rental ad.”

      “You don’t have another phone?”

      “Not here at home. I guess I could block my number...”

      She nibbled uncertainly on her lower lip. “No, a blocked number wouldn’t be believable.”

      “Then we’d have to go over to the office. I have an extra line that wouldn’t give the name of my company on caller ID.”

      She appeared more hopeful. “Would you mind?”

      It wasn’t really his place to get involved. Also, it was snowing pretty hard. He could hear the wind railing against the house. But he had a four-wheel drive, they wouldn’t have far to go and the storm didn’t seem to be nearly as bad as forecasted, certainly no worse than several they’d had in recent years.

      Besides, he could feel her uncertainty. Maybe Derrick Meade wasn’t cheating. Maybe they could relieve her anxiety so she could focus on writing those songs she’d mentioned. She seemed to be down on her luck, but not in the same way Noelle always was. Lourdes had seen a lot of success. She might be someone for whom a little help would make a big difference. “I wouldn’t mind, but—” he checked his watch “—it’s nearly nine in Nashville. Won’t it seem strange to get a business call that late?”

      “Not from a harried reporter trying to hit a deadline.”

      “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”

       4

      After Kyle waved her into the seat across from his desk and picked up the phone, Lourdes could only wring her hands. Was she about to find out if all the anxiety and concern she’d been feeling had a basis in reality?

      “What’s his number?” he asked.

      He could look it up on his cell, but there was no need when she knew it by heart.

      She rattled off the digits as she shook snow off her coat. Then she held her breath as he dialed. On the drive over, she’d educated him so he’d sound like a believable country magazine reporter, but she had no idea how he’d handle himself once he had Derrick on the phone.

      “Hello?”

      Derrick must’ve answered! Lourdes felt her stomach twist into knots.

      Clearing his throat, Kyle stood. “Mr. Meade? This is Graham...Gibb with Country Weekly.” He threw her a quizzical look that told her he’d gapped on the name she’d given him and had to improvise. Fortunately, he’d remembered the magazine correctly. That would’ve been a lot tougher to fake, since Derrick knew all the magazines that mattered in their industry. “I understand you manage Crystal Holtree...Yes, I’ve heard that song. It’s amazing. I apologize for calling so late, but I’m up against a deadline and was wondering if she might be available for a quick interview...Mmm-hmm...Right. What I’d originally planned for this issue fell apart, so I thought I’d change it up and write a piece on an emerging artist...Okay...Sure.”

      He covered the phone. “He’s giving me her number,” he mouthed. “What should I do?”

      “Hang up,” she whispered.

      “Won’t he get suspicious?”

      “He won’t guess it’s me. I’ve never done anything like this before.” She’d never felt she had to, not until Crystal entered their lives...

      Flicking his wet hair out of his face, he removed his hand from the receiver. “Sorry for the interruption. My wife’s telling me that my editor’s been trying to reach me. She’s already backfilled the interview with someone else, so I apologize for the false alarm. I’ll keep Ms. Holtree in mind for future articles, though...Yes, I agree. She’s talented. I’ll see what I can do in the next few months.”

      He hung up. Then he sank into his chair. “I’m not sure that was completely believable.”

      Lourdes couldn’t be sure, either. She’d been straining the bounds of credulity when she’d had Kyle call so late. Crystal was generating sufficient interest that it wasn’t inconceivable, but it was Lourdes’s emotions that were driving her these days—not logic. That was why she’d had to pull away from Nashville. She needed to get her priorities straight, put recent setbacks in perspective. “You handled it well.”

      “But we didn’t learn anything. Maybe she was there, and he’s just too smart to give himself away.”

      “Did he even try to suggest me for the interview? Or for another one later?”

      “No. He might’ve if we’d talked longer.”

      “He would’ve a year ago, no matter what.”

      Kyle drummed his fingers on the desk. “Maybe he couldn’t.”

      “You think she’s there?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “You sensed a hesitancy or something that makes you wonder.”

      He grimaced as if he didn’t want to admit that, but she could tell it was true.

      She dropped her head in her hand. “Shit.”

      Before he could respond, the office phone rang.

      He glanced over at her. “It’s the Ooma line I just used, and I shouldn’t be getting any calls this time of night.”

      Her heart began to pound. “What happens if you don’t answer?”

      “It rolls over to the regular lines and eventually goes to voice mail for First Step Solar.”

      “Grab it,” she cried, but he must’ve come to the same conclusion, because he was already reaching for the handset.

      “Graham Gibb.”

      Lourdes held her breath. If Kyle’s caller happened to be looking for solar panels, he or she would be quite confused. But, in the next second, it became apparent that Derrick was calling back, just as they’d feared.

      “Great,”