A Wedding on Lilac Lane Hope Ramsay (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

From her station in the library, Ella had a great view of the front door through the room’s cased opening. So the moment he walked through the door, she knew about it.

He’d lost the jeans and ratty T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier and had shaved and donned his daily uniform of blue blazer, gray slacks, white shirt, and bow tie. Today the tie was red, which seemed daring for him somehow. He’d also lost the big bandage on his head in lieu of a smaller Band-Aid.

Even though he’d reverted to type, Ella was never going to see Dylan the same way again, not after she’d cried all over his Clemson T-shirt. Not after he’d shown a remarkable ability to see right through her.

He wasn’t Doctor Dull. Not with a bright bow tie like that. In fact, he was a lot more like Doctor Dreamy, standing there conversing with Candace Gladwin, the high school senior Ashley hired on Saturdays to check reservations at the door.

Ella’s finger slipped, and the note she’d been bowing went a tiny bit flat. Thank God Mom wasn’t in the room; she would have noticed.

She couldn’t hear what Dylan was saying to Candi, but he appeared to be arguing with her, no doubt trying to talk his way into the tea party without a reservation. Having taken the brunt of Dylan’s persistence, Ella sympathized with the young woman trying to play bouncer at the door.

Ella finished “Loch Lavan Castle” and was about to start playing “Rocky Road to Dublin,” when Candi left her post by the door and crossed the library. She leaned in. “I’m sorry, Ella, but Doctor D says he’s your brother and is only here to listen to you play. I didn’t know you were Doctor D’s sister.”

“Well, not exactly. His father is about to marry my mother.”

Candi’s gaze widened. “So you are his sister. Cool. He’s adorbs. But he doesn’t have a reservation. Do you think I should ask Ms. Scott if I can let him in?” Candi seemed uncertain.

“Let him in. But tell him he has to sit in the library and can’t have any tea,” Ella said.

“You don’t mind?”

Ella shook her head. “No. He’s my brother.” She had trouble keeping a straight face. What was Dylan up to? Was he here to get on her good side? Or was this another apology moment Jim had demanded from him? Either way, his penance would be to sit quietly and listen for the next hour and a half. And if he took out his cell phone one time, she’d never let him forget it.

Wasn’t that the sort of teasing siblings engaged in? Yeah. But even if she’d claimed him as a brother, she was so over the desire to have a father and a sibling. Besides, he was too…handsome?

To be her brother anyway.

Oh boy. She studied her set list and started to play, trying with all her might to push Doctor D from her mind. It proved impossible, since he sat there handsome as the devil with his leg cocked over his knee, taking up man space and never taking his gaze from her.

That look made her uncomfortable. It almost reminded her of those days when Mom would sit in the audience judging her performances. But Dylan wasn’t a musician. He wasn’t counting her mistakes. Or at least she hoped he wasn’t. So why did the intensity of his gaze make her skin tingle and itch?

She played straight through until five thirty, ending on the classic “Danny Boy.” When the last note rang and she dropped the fiddle from her chin, Dylan stood up and clapped. A moment later, Ashley, Candi, and the helpers from the kitchen came to the library door and applauded too. By then most of the guests had departed.

“That was wonderful,” Ashley said, sweeping into the room, her classic polka-dotted dress floating around her legs. Ashley and Dylan had each dressed for a garden party, while Ella wore one of her stage dresses—a bargain she’d found at a Value Mart a few years ago, made of paisley polyester in shades of peach and turquoise. That dress would have looked fine in So Ho.  But it didn’t fit here.

And maybe it had never fit.  Cody had always complained about the high waist, long pleated sleeves, and short flowing skirt. He’d always wanted her in something tight that showed too much skin.  But Ella liked loose dresses. They were comfortable. And instead of wearing heels, she’d always opted for a pair of sturdy Doc Martens. A girl’s feet could get tired standing for hours on end.

Of course, her boots posed a sharp contrast to Ashley’s conservative navy-blue heels. Ella had only worn pumps like that back in high school, when she’d played in the school orchestra or participated in musical competitions. And only because Mom made her wear them.

“I would like to hire you for the rest of the summer,” Ashley said, pulling her away from her thoughts. “And we’ll need to adjust the fee.”

“Oh, um—”

“You’re worth double what I paid you,” Ashley interrupted. “And don’t argue with me. I just loved all that traditional music. Is that what your band played?”

“Uh, no. Like I told you the other day, we played mostly country music. You know, like Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash.”

“Oh, well, I think we should keep the music traditional for the teas. And at least one of the guests told me he enjoyed it when you played the medley of Strauss waltzes. So if you wanted to include a smattering of classical pieces, that would be great.”

“Sure,” she said, suddenly trapped by her limited success. She could play classical music, but she’d never truly liked doing it because it required a kind of perfection she hated. Classical music had to be played the way the composer wanted it played. Improvisation was frowned upon.

She remembered that summer in tenth grade when she’d gotten a spot at Interlochen Music Camp in Michigan. It had been the worst summer of her