Page 27 of Resonance
“I can take our bags,” Owen jumped in, reaching for mine as he gave me a meaningful look. “I mean, if you wanted to catch up for a few minutes without me fanboying all over this nice foyer.”
I nodded as Iona chuckled.
“Don’t let the”—I struggled with a descriptor—“overabundanceof him fool you. He knows his stuff.”
We both watched Owen and Bridget disappear down the hallway. Then Iona looked back to me, rubbing her lips together like she was spreading her lipstick around. “Trip good?”
“How’s Jacob?”
We spoke at the same time, then stalled out, waiting for each other until I prompted her to go ahead with a lift of my chin.
“He’s good. Wants to move to Nashville, of course. Be a star like his daddy.” She gave me a wan smile. “Y’all get caught in the snowstorm?”
“Sure did. Stopped for the night a little earlier than I intended. It was clear by morning, though. One of those whizzbang things that wallops without much muscle behind it.”
She nodded. “Glad it didn’t hold you up too much.”
We fell silent. Iona hugged her shoulders again, and this time I registered the gesture as discomfort rather than a reaction to the temperature. Her gaze fixed on something to my left, and after a moment, she said, “I’ve been wondering if I made a mistake asking you to do this for me.”
“Funny. I’ve been wondering if I made a mistake agreeing.”
“I know you’ll do a good job, though. Do it like it’s supposed to be done.”
“Gave you my word I would. I’m just surprised Ryder agreed to let me.”
“This isn’t a volatile divorce situation. It’s… just complicated, that’s all. But not vindictive.” A shade of regret passed through her eyes, and then she licked her lips and relaxed her arms. “Did you think about the cost any more?”
I waved a hand, glancing over the foyer, following the metalwork banister that curved gracefully around a staircase. “No charge. I’ll take enough to cover gas and the hotel last night. I don’t need anything more than that.”
“That’s not good business, Dan. You know I can’t let you do that.”
I shrugged. “That’s not your business. And it’s the way I want to handle it. Don’t like it, then we’ll turn around and go.”
“Always so goddamn stubborn.” There was that crackle and snap I remembered. It brought an unexpected smile to my face.
* * *
Ryder’s musiccollection comprised an open room the size of a three-car garage. Maybe larger, and it was practically its own museum. Glass-fronted display cases, plaques and memorabilia, a wide executive desk, behind which stretched a long bookshelf filled with wire-bound notebooks.
“Jesus, this is amazing,” Owen breathed out, starting to lean against a post before he seemed to think the better of it and straightened.
Iona smiled. “He likes things a certain way.” She angled toward me. “I can answer any questions you have. I remember the acquisition of almost everything, in case it matters. That section over there marked with yellow tape is mine.” She pointed it out. “It’ll need to be itemized on its own, I reckon.”
I nodded, unable to detach my gaze from the silvery coils of wire wrapping those notebooks on the shelves. Dozens of them. I’d left all but a few of them in Ryder’s care when we split. Somewhere in there was the song I’d written him.
Iona shifted on her feet. “He’d probably be happy to let you have some of those old notebooks back if you wanted them, you know?”
“I don’t.” Didn’t even want the possibility in the air. My voice snapped like a live wire, so I tacked on, softer, “I got the ones I wanted back then, is all.” I glanced aside at her, found her eyes glossy and brimming. I should’ve touched her, comforted her somehow, and I couldn’t make myself do it.
She inhaled and nodded. “I understand.”
Owen, god fucking bless him, took her hand. “We’ve got a plan, all right? We’re gonna start with the albums and then move to memorabilia, so could you show me where those are so I don’t get lost? You can stay in here with us if you want, and if you don’t, that’s fine, too. Dan gets all quiet when he’s concentrating on something, which is pretty boring, so I’d be happy to have someone to chatter with.”
That brought a smile to her face, but she shook her head. “I’ll leave you to it. Y’all have free range of the house, like I said. Make yourselves at home. I’ll be making supper, too. Would like if you’d eat with me”—she glanced at me—“but you don’t have to.”
“We will.” I nodded resolutely, dreading it already.
We spentthe rest of the afternoon working through the collection. Ryder saved practically everything. We’d been similar that way. A lot of it held only sentimental value, but what was there was well organized and easy to move through.