Music had been a major part of her life since her childhood when she’d found her grandmother’s violin and fallen in love hard and fast. Her cash-strapped mother, who was too sentimental to hock the instrument, couldn’t afford to get her private lessons.
So Abby had taught herself to play, filling the hours with music while her mother had worked two jobs and Drew had been off getting into mischief.
Abby’s love of music had turned out to be a godsend, getting her through her darkest days. There’d been a lot of them, none darker than when Drew had been accused of murder and subsequently convicted.
Abby supposed she should take the milk-drinker comment as a compliment, after all. Connor might not have issued it if he knew about her family.
“I like milk,” she said, hating the defensiveness that crept into her voice.
“And chaperones who arrive early.”
“Arriving fifteen minutes before the bus is scheduled to leave is not early. It’s on time.”
“You ever heard the one about time being money? Those fifteen minutes, which I spent getting a floor broker on the New York Stock Exchange to dump some shares, made my client a lot of it.”
“And yourself a healthy commission, I’m sure.”
He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s how I make my living.”
“Hey, you a stockbroker?” Mr. Greeley asked without taking his attention from the road.
“Sure am.”
“You any good?”
“Yes, I am,” he said.
She was prepared to erect another black mark against him for boasting but he didn’t sound like he was bragging. He sounded confident. Since she tried to instill that quality in her students every day, she couldn’t fault him for that.
“Maybe I can hire you to give me some financial advice,” Mr. Greeley said.
Abby waited for Connor to dissuade the bus driver of that notion. She’d seen his pricey office and doubted he catered to the common man.
“Be happy to,” he said instead. “Remind me to give you my business card later.”
He leaned back against the bus seat, looking completely relaxed. Abby felt herself vibrating with suppressed energy.
He tilted his head and gave her a lazy look. His eyes were hazel with little flecks of gold in the irises. He was clean shaven but she could tell he wouldn’t be for long, another hint of imperfection.
“I’m hoping you’re right about letting Jaye go on this field trip,” he said in a soft voice. “Because I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”
“It is a good idea,” Abby said with the same confidence she’d displayed earlier.
She swiveled her head and located Jaye in the back of the bus. Because of her blond hair, the child was easy to spot. She sat perfectly still, giving the impression that she was all alone even though she was surrounded by classmates. They laughed and sang and talked, but Jaye didn’t seem to be part of any group.
Abby turned back around. “She’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”
She’d barely finished her sentence when a shrill, childish voice rang out. “Row, row, row your bus, gently down the stream. Throw your driver overboard and listen to him scream.”
Abby whipped her head around to locate the culprit but already knew who she’d find. Jaye Smith’s mouth formed a perfect O as she sang at the top of her pretty little head.
CONNOR NEVER TOOK PLEASURE in saying “I told you so,” so he kept quiet.
It was hardly Abby Reed’s fault that he’d caved in to her pressure to sign that permission slip, not when Connor had suspected his niece would create some sort of scene.
He could have stood his ground. He damn well should have. But he hadn’t, so now the bus was pulling up in front of the Kennedy Center at barely ten minutes before the performance was to begin.
It had taken a good fifteen minutes to deal with Jaye’s outburst. When Jaye wouldn’t stop singing, Mr. Greeley had pulled the bus over to the side of the road. She’d quieted quickly then, but had resisted Abby Reed’s order to trade seats with a student at the front of the bus. Jaye had only complied when Connor had insisted, but then it was Connor who’d ended up in the other student’s seat with Jaye sitting next to Abby.
Now it was up to Connor to see that Jaye suffered the consequences of her actions. When the bus stopped, he’d call a taxi and instruct the driver to drive them home. A girl who erupted into spontaneous song on the bus couldn’t be trusted not to do so at the symphony.
He made sure he got off the bus before Jaye, then put a restraining hand on the girl’s arm so she couldn’t lose herself among the crowd headed for the Kennedy Center.
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady,” he said.
She directed a mutinous glare at him but held her ground while her classmates disembarked. Abby was at the back of the group, organizing the students into a cohesive pack and issuing orders about walking in an orderly manner.
“Miss Reed,” he called, “can I have a word?”
Her eyes widened. “Now? We don’t have much time. The performance is starting soon.”
“This won’t take long,” Connor said.
She hesitated, casting a glance over her shoulder at the impatient group. But then she nodded to a stern-faced chaperone Connor had overheard say she was retired military.
“Mrs. Bradford, would you see to it that the group gets to the Concert Hall?” Abby asked. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”
“I’ve got it,” Mrs. Bradford said before assuming her position at the front of the class and issuing orders for one of the other chaperones to bring up the rear.
The group hurried off. Abby Reed, her foot tapping and her body coiled for flight, obviously longed to join them. She gazed at him expectantly. “What is it?”
“I’m calling a cab and heading home with Jaye.”
Abby’s expression fell, but Jaye was the one who exclaimed. “No!”
He directed a hard look at the child. “After that outburst on the bus, Jaye, you don’t deserve to see the performance.”
Jaye’s chin lifted, and her expression turned mutinous. “See if I care. It’s just a stupid concert.”
“Then you won’t mind missing it.”
“Why would I? Who cares about the stupid violin anyway?”
“Then it’s settled.” Connor switched his gaze to Abby. Her brows and the corners of her mouth were turned downward in a classic expression of disapproval. But what else was new? She’d disapproved of him from the first.
“Excuse us for a minute, Jaye,” she said.
She took Connor’s upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip and led him away from the defiant child. It was the first time she’d touched him, causing his awareness of her to heighten. She looked lovely in a simple slim-fitting navy skirt topped with a dark pink sweater that complemented her dark hair and creamy complexion. But her eyes were flinty.
“Let me guess,” he said on a sigh. “You don’t agree with me.”
“Normally I would agree that you shouldn’t award that kind of behavior,” she whispered, meeting his gaze head on, “but I’m afraid Jaye will never pick up her violin again if you take her home.”
“She’ll learn a lesson.”