Chapter 4

4

H olden was at the barista bar with Dax when the blonde entered Java Junction. Something about her drew his eye. He watched as she made her way to the center of the coffeehouse and greeted Ivy Tennyson, who introduced her to Wolf and Ana.

This had to be Finley Farrow.

"I'm glad things worked out for you to stay at Jean Bradley's place," Dax said.

He had to force his attention away from Finley, and he looked back at Dax.

"Yes, it's the perfect size, especially since it's only me. It's got some pretty trails nearby, so I can take a break and clear my head if I need to. Do a bit of hiking."

"Java Junction might also be a good place to come in and write if you need a change of scenery from the cottage," his new friend continued. "It's pretty quiet from around ten until three each day. My old geezers leave by ten, and the moms who've driven carpools scatter. We get the occasional drop-ins during lunch. Then things pick up once the high school lets out for the day."

"I'll keep that in mind. I've never written in a public place before. I've thought it would be too distracting."

"That nook in the back?" Dax asked. "It's got your name written all over it. You can also run a monthly tab if you choose. I only offer that to my regulars."

Holden grinned. "So that's how you suck people in. Offer a free drink the first time—and then a house tab."

"You got me. No, seriously, you're welcome to come in and write without drinking a thing, Holden. Java Junction's doors are open to everyone, whether you order something or not."

He glanced back to the table at the center of the room.

"Oh, good. Finley made it. You'll like her. She grew up in Lost Creek. Her parents run a Montessori preschool, and her brother and sister-in-law operate a water sports rental place at the lake. I know now isn't the optimum time of year, but you can rent canoes, paddleboats, and kayaks from them if you decide to stay around for warmer weather."

"I may need to buy one of your wife's paintings," Holden said, glancing to the one Ivy had done of Lost Creek Lake.

Dax beamed with pride. "You'll have to wait a while on that. Ivy's working on paintings for a show next fall in New York. It takes a long time to produce enough pieces to put together an exhibition."

"Ready for you, Holden," Scott Bartlett said, handing over a tray of drinks to his boss. "I saw Finley come in," the barista added. "I'll make her usual and bring it over."

"You're busy," Holden said. "I'll take the drinks over for everyone. I'm looking forward to this evening, Dax. Thanks for inviting me."

Holden weaved his way between tables and as he reached the center, he heard Wolf say, "Maybe you could show me some of your work, and I could see if your talents might be suited to the film industry."

"Finley Farrow has a gift. You'll love her unique perspective, Wolf," he said, placing the tray on the table.

The blonde looked up at him with piercing, aquamarine eyes. She had an unconventional beauty, with all the parts coming together in a way which drew him in. Those eyes mesmerized him, and Holden knew he could be lost in them.

He took the chair next to her and offered his hand. "I'm Holden Scott. I've been wanting to meet you because your photographs spoke to my soul."

Her eyes widened, and he added, "As you can guess, I saw your exhibit at the library."

A blush tinged her cheeks. "It just went up last weekend," she told him.

"I was just telling Finley that I don't have a photographer on the payroll for WEBA Productions. I'll have to stop in and see your work."

"What is WEBA?" Ivy asked.

Ana smiled. "It's an acronym for the four of us. We have two children, Eva and Bear, hence WEBA."

Scott appeared at their table. "Here you go, Finley," he said easily.

Looking up, she said, "Thanks for taking care of me, Scott," and took a sip of her drink.

All Holden could think of was drinking from her lips.

He told himself this was crazy. He'd never been smitten instantly by any woman, and he certainly wasn't ready to become involved with someone else, not with a screenplay to write. He needed Madison to be a distant speck in his rear-view mirror before he considered spending any time with another woman. Still, Finley's photographs intrigued him.

"Where did you go to shoot your series?" he asked.

"Most of those photographs are within ten miles of Lost Creek," she informed him. "Ivy likes to go driving, looking for inspiration for her art. I've started tagging along, shooting photos."

He forced himself to turn from Finley to Ivy. "I know you painted that picture of Lost Creek Lake up there. I would love to see some of your other work."

"I'm not in the habit of showing it off, but you're a fellow artist. Just as Finley paints a story with her camera, you do the same with your words." Ivy looked to Wolf. "And Wolf also is a storyteller."

"I wish I could say I wrote my own scripts and filmed them, but I find it easier to take the words others have crafted and bring them alive on screen," the director said. He smiled at his friend. "I'm really pleased that Holden agreed to write the screenplay for Hill Country Homicide ."

"I just read it last night," Finley said, drawing Holden's attention again. "I'd read Capitol Crimes when it came out and thought it was terrific. When Dax said you were coming to Java Junction this evening, I decided to start Hill Country Homicide. "

She chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that caused desire to race through him. "I read it in one sitting, Holden. I think that's probably the biggest compliment I could give an author. That ending had me flummoxed. I never would have guessed who the killer was."

"That's what I liked about the book," Ana commented. "Holden gave us an advanced copy, and I was curious to see what his follow-up to Capitol Crimes would be like. I was startled by the reveal of the killer. No, dumbfounded," she corrected. "Then I went back through the book again, re-reading certain passages, and guess what? Holden had dropped subtle breadcrumbs throughout the novel. The answer was there all the time, right under a reader's nose."

Finley looked at him with those amazing aquamarine eyes and asked, "What's the difference between writing a novel and a screenplay?"

He laughed. "I'm learning on the fly. Wolf thought I'd be the ideal person to adapt my novel for screen since I'm intimately familiar with the plot and characters. It's a very different kind of writing than I'm used to, though. Dialogue is everything. I'm having to shave about two-thirds of the pages in the novel to be a manageable size for screen."

Wolf jumped in. "Most films run between ninety and a hundred and twenty minutes. That's as long as movie theaters want. If you go longer, it cuts down on a showing a day for them, and that's not something they like."

"I can't imagine having to edit out so much," Ivy said. "That's like viewing one of my canvases and two-thirds of it being empty."

"The tricky thing," Holden continued, "is that you must get the entire story in. A very condensed version, that is. You can't simply film the first third— or the last third —of a novel. It has to be pared in a way where you have a complete story. Intro. Rising action. Climax. And a satisfying conclusion. And that's not to mention character development. I'm having to create a few composite characters, blending two or three from the novel together and allowing them to serve a single purpose. Film is a visual medium, though. What it takes me to describe in a page, a moviegoer can see and assess within a couple of seconds. That's definitely helping trim things."

Holden saw that Dax took the stage, and the coffeehouse began to quieten. He had a guitar in hand and slipped the strap over his head, taking a seat on a stool.

"Thanks for turning out tonight," he said. "I haven't been up here for a while. I've written a few new songs to share with you, along with some of the older ones you've heard before."

" Forever's Embrace ," called out a woman two tables away.

Grinning, Dax said, "I'll always play that one. For my one true love."

Dax looked at Ivy with such tenderness in his eyes that Holden was moved. He glanced to the painter, seeing love reflected in her eyes for her husband. It seemed in that moment as if the two were one.

Holden had only witnessed that kind of love between Wolf and Ana. He certainly had never looked at Madison that way. Part of him regretted the years he had spent with her. Their relationship had never moved forward, remaining stagnant, and he should have been more aware of that instead of letting things slide along.

He wanted more in his life than a status quo.

Holden realized he yearned for love.

By now, Dax had begun to play. Holden sipped his drink, aware of Finley sitting nearby. Closing his eyes, he caught the faint scent of strawberries and knew it wafted from her skin.

Dax played for close to an hour, mesmerizing the coffeehouse's crowd. Then he said he was ready to play his final number and began.

Holden listened carefully to the words, knowing they had been written for Ivy. He wondered if he would ever write a novel for a woman he loved.

Glancing at Wolf, he saw the director held hands with his wife, and they both stared wordlessly into one another's eyes, lost in the moment.

The last note ended, and applause erupted throughout the crowded coffeehouse.

"Thanks for turning out tonight," Dax told the audience. "We'll be closing in the next fifteen minutes. Hope to see you next time. Or tomorrow morning."

Everyone laughed as Dax left his guitar on the stool he'd occupied and returned to their table. Holden rose, offering his hand.

"And here I thought you were just some hack who made coffee," he joked. "You're talented, Dax."

Ana said, "We enjoyed hearing you play so much, Dax. Of course, Wolf and I heard you play a few songs at one of the Harmony & Hues we attended last summer. Will you be holding the fusion nights again?"

"Ivy and I have talked it over, and we want to do it for the Lost Creek community again. We're even considering opening up other Java Junctions throughout small towns in the Hill Country and starting Harmony & Hues nights in them, as well."

Wolf's eyes lit up. "This would make for a fantastic documentary, Dax. Even if I just filmed Lost Creek's Harmony & Hues nights next summer, that would be compelling enough. Could we get together and talk about it?"

"Do you have time right now?" Dax asked.

"Of course," Wolf and Ana said in unison, causing the others to laugh.

"I'll be going," Finley said. "It was so nice meeting you Ana, Wolf."

"We do want to see your photo series, Finley," Wolf told her. "Would you mind showing them to us? I'd like to ask questions of you when we view it."

"The Lost Creek Library opens at one on Sundays," she said. "If you could come tomorrow, that is. During the week, I teach fifth graders, so I'd have to meet you after school if you choose a weekday."

"Tomorrow is good for us," Ana said. "We'll bring Eva and Bear along." She turned to Holden. "Eva wants to see where Uncle Holden is living now. She said she was going to come spend the night with you so you could have a tea party and watch Disney movies together."

"Why don't we get together for lunch?" Finley suggested. "We could meet at noon and then head to the library afterward."

"What's good in Lost Creek?" Wolf asked.

"Blackwood BBQ is the best place in town. It's on Main Street, just a few minutes from the square."

She glanced at Holden. "You're welcome to join us. If you'd like, that is."

He had been trying to figure out how to weasel an invitation to tomorrow and smiled at her. "I'd be happy to see your photos again, Finley. Especially if you will be giving insight into them."

She stood. "Then I'll see you at noon. Ivy, you and Dax are welcome to come if you can."

Ivy shook her head. "I've got my Sunday shift at the tasting room."

"You paint and talk about wines?" Wolf asked.

"My family owns Lost Creek Vineyards. My sister runs the event center, and her husband is our chief winemaker. Dad is in charge of marketing and advertising, and Mom keeps the books— and keeps Dad in line."

"Sundays are super-busy at Java Junction," Dax said. "Besides, Ivy and I have seen all the photos in this series. Feel free to stop in for a coffee after the library, though."

Holden stood, offering Dax his hand and they shook. "Thanks again for the invitation tonight." Looking to Finley, he asked, "May I walk you to your car?"

She nodded, slipping into her coat. He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the coffeehouse. Even through the layers she wore, the touch was electrifying.

Outside, he asked, "Which way to your car?"

"Actually, I walked to Java Junction. The square is always crowded on nights someone plays. I only live three blocks away. I can walk home."

"I'll drive you," he insisted.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know," he said softly. "But I want to."

He led her to Wolf's borrowed truck, thinking it was time he bought transportation of his own. He didn't see himself returning permanently to New York. The past month in Texas had told him that his heart was in the Hill Country.

He'd never leave it again.

Finley gave him brief instructions, and he pulled into her driveway less than two minutes later. They sat for a moment in silence, and Holden wondered if she might be as reluctant to part from him as he was from her.

"Would you… would you like to come in for a cupcake? My roommate brought a couple home from the bakery today."

His gaze met hers. "I'd like that. Very much."