“Yeah. I guess. My parents have been gone a long time. I still have some friends in the music business, but I kind of left all that behind.” She was ready to change the subject. “So. Would you do it? Go back in time to 1967. Like you said, if the devil made you an offer?”
That was way too close to the truth to be coincidental. Gray jerked his head up to read her expression, but relaxed when he saw the sparkle of amusement in Cass’s emerald green eyes.
He cocked his head. “I’ll bet you were beautiful.” She looked surprised. And when her hand reflexively reached up to touch her white hair, he was afraid he’d offended her. “I mean… I didn’t mean that you’re not, um, attractive now.”
“Take it easy, Doo. I know the difference between old and young. I won’t claim to have been one of the world’s great beauties, but I did my share of head turning.”
“I would have liked to know you then.” Looking down at his hands, Gray contemplated a life using those hands to forge a new music that wasn’t just background noise, but part of a social movement that would change the world forever.
“No,” he said. Yes. “I wouldn’t take the devil up on an offer like that.” I definitely would. “What would you do if you were me?”
She smiled. “There was one thing that made it all worth it. Can you guess what it was?”
Gray wasn’t stymied for long. Within seconds his brow smoothed. He smiled as he nodded. “The music.”
“Yeah.” She returned his smile. “The music.”
CHAPTER FIVE Crossroads
Shivaun had just ascended to the third step of the ten-foot-wide stone staircase that led to Rosie’s upstairs office, when she heard a voice identical to her own, but brimming with accusation.
“Where have you been?” Sheridan stood at the base of the stairs with hands on her waist.
Shy looked over her shoulder. “None of your business. The question should be where am I goin’.”
Sher’s manner instantly changed from combative to interested. Dropping her hands, she climbed to the step where her sister waited, asking as she went, “Where are ye goin’ then?”
“I’m off to Rosie’s office.”
“Why?”
“Come along and you’ll see.”
“She’s rarely there.”
“Oh. How do we get in touch?”
Sher took on the indulgent expression that wasn’t Shy’s favorite and pulled out her intelliphone. Shivaun rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating way before telling Sher, “There’s no call to be an arse about it.”
“We’ll have to be disagreein’ on that one.”
Shivaun pulled her phone from the messenger bag she wore cross-body. “Do you have the number?”
“Bettin’ ye three wins that ‘tis already in you’re phone.”
When the girls were together, their thick and somewhat antiquated accent took over their speech like a possession.
Without responding to the bet, which was understood though not defined, Shy proceeded through contacts.
When the twins were old enough to run, they discovered that Shivaun was faster. It was a fact that had sat squarely in the craw of Sheridan their entire lives. She’d learned to deal with the irritation by betting when she was most likely to prevail. Shy paid her debts by allowing Sher to win foot races. Shivaun never told her sister that she’d do that with or without the pretense of gambling victories.
Rosie’s name was in her contact list.
“How did she…?”
“No point askin’ how,” Sher replied. “The mistress has her ways.”
“The mistress has her mysterious ways?”
“The mistress is mischievous.”
“Would ye say the mistress is on a mysterious mission of mischief?”
Sher laughed. “’Tis no’ fair. ‘Twas I who was fated to be doin’ the winnin’ this fine mornin’.”
“If ‘twas so, then ye would be winnin’ and no’ whinin’.”
Sher laughed again. As much as she was reveling in still being on her honeymoon with the sexiest elf alive, at least from her perspective, she needed personal interaction with her sister like she needed air.
“’Tis ringin’,” Shy reported as they continued up the stairs.
“Phones do that,” Sher quipped.
“Why are you calling when I’m right here?” Rosie asked.
“Right where?” Shy said, looking confused.
“Look up.” Rosie leaned over the balustrade above, phone to her ear.
“Because my sister,” Shy gave Sher a look, “thought it unlikely that you’re here.”
“Hanging up,” Rosie said and disappeared.
When the twins arrived at the inner door of her offices, Rosie was in a discussion with Haversfil Grieve that appeared too focused to have originated one minute before.
Grieve nodded to the twins, nodded to Rosie, and departed without a word.
“O’Malleys,” Rosie said. “How am I of service to you this Wednesday?”