It was also very easy to drive. Its age and appearance erased any concerns she might have had about borrowing someone else’s vehicle.
Armed with a map of the town, courtesy of Pierre, she thanked the parking valet who brought the car to the door of the hotel for her. Seating herself behind the steering wheel, she checked the location of all the various knobs and switches and adjusted the mirrors.
If Pierre had thought it odd she was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and had her hair tucked back in a ponytail, he gave no sign. The disguise was necessary to calm her nerves.
Driving down the steep, winding highway was an adventure. Like the town itself, the mountain road conjured up images of the Swiss Alps. But the guardrail was sturdy, and the two lanes were plenty wide, so she had no real worries.
The hamlet of Silver Glen was laid out in a well-planned grid tucked between the two steep mountains that constrained its growth. Long and narrow, the peaceful community centered itself along a two-mile stretch of meandering road that wound in a lazy S from one town limit to the other. Cute shops and restaurants vied for space between quaint B and Bs and private homes.
The side streets were equally interesting. Zoe found a dry cleaner’s whose sign proclaimed it to be the Silver Press, a movie theater called the Silver Screen, and finally, the place she had circled on her map...Silver Bells, a music shop that sold everything from handmade dulcimers to electronic keyboards.
She spent a happy hour prowling the sheet-music section and debating the merits of a new strap for her guitar. In the end, her only purchase was three sets of replacement strings.
Music softened the rough edges of her life. It was usually easy to strike up a relationship with someone in a new town and offer to play a couple of gigs for free. After that, she was often booked here and there for casual events. She loved being surrounded by the trappings of music. Today she felt a sense of kinship with the little business operated by a man who looked suspiciously like Willie Nelson’s twin.
After leaving Silver Bells, she roamed on foot. A shallow river bisected the center of town at right angles to the road. Some long-ago citizens had constructed a covered bridge that was accessible to both cars and foot traffic. Zoe took out her phone and snapped a picture of the postcard scene.
There would be plenty here to keep her busy. Outdoor gear was available in stores everywhere, and the thought of hiking intrigued her. Perhaps she would invest in a good pair of boots.
When the dinner hour approached, she debated returning to the hotel, but she was leery of running into Liam again. She sensed he didn’t trust her, and his suspicions stung. Though he was correct to think she was hiding something, it was nothing that would bring harm to his precious hotel. A woman had a right to her secrets, didn’t she?
Feeling a bit down in the dumps, she spotted a business that promised to have a decent hamburger on the menu. Making up her mind in an instant, she opened the door and went inside. The Silver Dollar Saloon was dark but smoke-free, a fact that surprised, but pleased her.
Since it was far too early for the locals to really heat up the joint, she was able to grab the booth of her choice. Sitting so that she could look through the front window and study the activity on the street, she perused the limited menu. When the young waitress stopped by, Zoe ordered an Angus burger and sweet-potato fries with a root-beer float.
She took her time soaking in the ambience of the bar. The walls were decorated with black-and-white movie stills, some of them signed. North Carolina was a popular location shoot for producers, and apparently, a number of well-known faces had stopped in at the Silver Dollar to have a cold one at the end of a long day.
The booths that lined both sides of the room looked old. High-backed and made of dark wood, they bore the marks of time. The tables scattered down the center were constructed of the same wood. She almost expected an outlaw or two to come sauntering in.
As she was finishing up her meal, a man appeared from the back, startling her when he stopped at her elbow.
“Welcome to the Silver Dollar,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in town, so you must be a new visitor.”
She looked up, way up, and was surprised to see familiar blue eyes. But the black hair was longer and shaggier. “I’m guessing you might be a Kavanagh,” she said.
The man grinned. “Dylan. At your service. I own and operate this place, or perhaps it owns me, if you want to know the truth.”
“I’m Zoe Chamberlain.”
“So how are you enjoying Silver Glen?”
“I haven’t been here long, but your brother is treating me well up at the Lodge.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Lucky you. Can’t go wrong there.” The waitress said something to him, and he started to walk away. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Zoe.”
“Wait.” The word came out impulsively and with some urgency.
Dylan paused. “You need another root beer?”
“No. I was wondering if you could use a musician one evening. I sing and play guitar. I enjoy doing it, and you wouldn’t have to pay me. What do you think?”
His frown didn’t say much for her chances. “Aren’t you on vacation?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been ill and I needed a place to rest and recoup. Finding the Silver Beeches Lodge was serendipitous.” No need to tell him about Bessie. “I’m going to be here for over a month, and I’m not accustomed to doing nothing all day. It would mean a lot to me. And I’m good, I swear.”
Dylan’s grin flashed again. Zoe was surprised to realize that, unlike his brother’s, Dylan’s sexy smile didn’t cause her heart to stutter even a little. Apparently she had a thing for irritable, bossy guys in suits. Or at least one in particular.
The bar owner put his hands on his hips and stared at her. It suddenly occurred to Zoe that she wasn’t looking her best. Hair tucked back in a ponytail. Well-worn Red Sox cap. He probably thought she was either eccentric or lying about staying up at the Lodge.
Dylan Kavanagh sighed, for the first time sounding much like his brother. “Let me look at the schedule. I have a few bookings coming up. When I know something, I’ll call you at the hotel.”
She had to be satisfied with that. Even if her hands were already itchy to be playing music. Dylan’s bar was exactly the kind of place where she felt most comfortable. “I understand,” she said with a smile. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
* * *
Liam was more than a little surprised when Dylan showed up for a late dinner at the hotel. Maeve and Liam were sitting at a table by the window when his brother appeared. Dylan, wearing a dark sport coat over a pale blue dress shirt open at the throat and neatly pressed jeans, turned female heads as he crossed the room.
Maeve put her hand over her heart. “Dear Lord. It must be a sign of the apocalypse. My second-born son voluntarily dressing for dinner and climbing the mountain without a parental guilt trip.”
Dylan bent and kissed his mother’s cheek before being seated. “I heard there was prime rib on the menu tonight. You know that’s my favorite.”
Liam snorted. “You never leave that bar unattended without a good reason. ’Fess up, little brother. Tell us what’s important enough to merit such a sacrifice.”
“Last time I checked, I had you beat in height by an inch and a half. I haven’t been your little brother since we both hit puberty, so don’t try putting me in my place.”
The sibling rivalry was good-natured and familiar. Liam didn’t see enough of his brothers, though he loved them all fiercely. Conor and Aidan, and Patrick, Gavin, and James all lived nearby, but the seven brothers led busy lives. For Liam, the hotel was a demanding mistress. Not that it had to be. He employed good people whom he trusted. But perhaps he was too much of a control freak to let them take over.
Maeve