Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,70

bar when a band was playing wouldn’t have been her first choice, Holden had seen the sign advertising Final Vinyl, the 1980s–1990s cover band Benjamin often had in, and here they were.

She surprised herself by having a great time. Sometimes when there was a band, people would shove some of the tables aside and make a dance floor, and they had been dancing up a storm. During a break between sets, Maya went up to speak to the band. She knew the lead singer a little—he lived near Port Frederick, and she’d been trying to get him to be in one of her musicals for years.

“Hey, guys, I know this isn’t your era, but any chance you know any Two Squared?”

The bassist, who was younger than the other guys, cracked up. “I do. I secretly loved them when I was a kid.”

She hitched her head toward Holden. “Well, that there is Holden Hampshire.”

“No shit?” His eyebrows shot up. “We can do ‘Petal Power.’ I’ll give these guys the chords over the next break.” When the lead singer groaned, he said, “I’ll sing, dude. It won’t kill you.”

During the break, she and Holden hit the jukebox. He was a Spice Girls fan, too, it turned out. “I mean, I sort of have to be, don’t I?” he said. “You don’t grow up in a band like Two Squared and not respect your elders.”

When the band came back on, the bassist took the mic. “This one is in honor of a very special guest.” Holden smiled and waved as the whole bar went crazy, and the band ripped into a rock-and-roll-ified version of Two Squared’s biggest hit. Holden taught Maya and the girls the dance moves, even going so far as to modify them for Nora, who wasn’t able to boing around as much due to her belly. Holden could be all right when he wanted to.

It was fun. Goofy, invigorating fun. Maya realized she hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Impending financial ruin could do a number on one’s sense of humor.

“I gotta go,” Nora said when the song ended. “My feet are killing me.”

“Yeah, I’m done, too,” Eve said. “It’s almost midnight, and I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.”

“Party poopers!” Maya said affectionately as she hugged them and caught her breath. The band, reverting to its 1980s roots, cued up a ballad—“Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” which brought her back to that evening on the roof with Benjamin, when they’d bantered about that song.

It suddenly occurred to her that maybe what Holden needed in terms of his Benedick character development was lessons from Benjamin. Say what you wanted about Benjamin, when the banter was flying, he could keep up.

“Dance with me?” Holden asked.

She tried to wave him off. “Thanks, but I’m gonna sit this one out.”

“Come on!” He started pulling on her arm. “You know you want to.” He started singing, but in a funny exaggerated way. He’d had a lot of beer, and he was happy. She did love this song. It lent itself to funny, exaggerated singing, but it was also just a cool song. Those big-haired metal bands from the 1980s knew what they were doing.

“Okay, okay.” She let herself be propelled to the center of the makeshift dance floor. Holden took her into his arms, and they started swaying.

“This is nice,” he said into her ear.

“Mm-hmm.” She tried to look over at the bar, but she didn’t have a clear sight line.

“I heard there’s a town tradition of throwing flowers into the lake?”

“What?”

“Flowers? The lake?”

“Oh, yeah. But on nights with full moons.” They’d twirled around enough that she could see the bar now, but there was no one behind it.

“Oh, bummer.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like there’s a rule.” She herself had been known to be loose with her interpretation of the tradition.

“I was thinking maybe you could show me.”

“Sure. After this song?”

“Or you could show me your place.”

“You’re in my place.”

Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that. For some reason she didn’t want him knowing she’d evicted herself for him. She didn’t like people knowing how close to the edge she was. Well, except the girls. And Benjamin. Which was sort of strange. She hated the idea that Benjamin might think of her as weak, or incapable.

Happily, Holden was too tipsy to understand what she meant. He pulled back, his face scrunched in confusion, and she took the opportunity to redirect. “I’m actually staying with a friend at the moment. My place