Immediate Family by Eileen Goudge

Author:Eileen Goudge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

The visit with Nancy went surprisingly well. Other than her initial shock at how altered he was, she’d welcomed him as if they were old friends. Within minutes she was bustling about the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee.

When it was brewed she poured some into a mug and plunked it down in front of Grant. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He cast her a faintly sheepish look.

“Stevie tells me you don’t get out much.” Nancy settled into the chair opposite him at the table while Stevie took the one at the end.

He nodded, as if ruminating on it, before replying, “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. You like zucchini?”

“Uh, sure.” He spoke hesitantly, as if not quite sure why she was asking.

“Good. I’ll send you home with some.” She nodded toward the fresh-picked zucchini on the kitchen counter. “This time of year I have more than I know what to do with. Try it stir-fried, with a little basil and olive oil. I find what works best with most food is to keep it simple.”

“I’m not much of a cook,” he confessed.

“What do you do with yourself all day?” Her eyes crinkled with something close to amusement. In the jeans and man’s button-down shirt she had on, both liberally streaked with clay, she looked anything but the starstruck flower child he’d once singled out of the crowd.

“Read, mostly,” he said blowing on his coffee before taking a careful sip. “I never finished school, so I have some catching up to do.”

“I make pots,” she told him, nodding in the direction of her studio out back.

“So I hear.” He sat back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You any good?”

“I make a living at it.” Nancy was too modest to mention that her ceramics fetched top dollar in high-end galleries across the country. “What about you? Writing any new songs these days?”

“Hell, no, I haven’t in years. Though I still pick up my guitar from time to time. The old ’caster hasn’t let me down yet.” His face relaxed in a smile. Nancy seemed to have a calming effect on him, as she did on most people.

“I remember the night you played the Forum,” she recalled. “I thought a riot would break out after that last number. No one wanted to believe it was the final stop of your farewell tour.”

“You were there that night?” Stevie asked her, surprised that this was the first she was hearing of it.

Nancy smiled at her. “You were, too.”

“I was?” Stevie sat up straighter.

Her mother nodded. “You were only three at the time, that’s why you don’t remember. I’d pawned my grandmother’s brooch to pay for the tickets. But it was worth every dime. We witnessed history that night.” Nancy smiled faintly as she stared off into space, toying with the end of her braid.

“It was Stark,” Grant explained, referring to bassist Rick Stark. “He was sick of me bagging out on gigs. He gave me an ultimatum, either clean up my act or he was throwing in the towel.

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