entry point. Then, for some reason, their attention strayed to the back of the church. Annie ignored it. Probably another child, coaxing them to leave. Three tries later, she gave up on the accompaniment.
“Come on, guys.” Should she call the whole thing off, before it was too late? No. This cantata was the focal point of their Easter service. She wouldn’t quit. Annie left the piano and moved to stand in front of them.
“Think about what Easter means. Your best friend was killed. Now he’s buried, and you don’t think you’re ever going to see him again. The world is dark, the sun’s just under the horizon, and you’re sad.” She hummed the first few bars, motioning them to sing. “Okay, now you’re in the garden where he’s buried and you see that the stone over his grave is moved.”
Three loud organ chords echoed through the church, resonant, triumphant and totally unexpected, grabbing the children’s attention like nothing else could. Annie blinked. She must have left the music up there. Had Pastor Burns finally found her an organist?
Annie forced herself not to look around. She refused to waste this opportunity. Instead she tapped her pen on the top of her music stand. Every eye centered on her.
“Now sing!” she ordered.
And sing they did. Glorious swells of jubilant notes from the tired old pipe organ begged their full participation. Whoever was tickling those ivories knew exactly how to get the most out of each and every pipe. Annie could hardly wait to see exactly who her benefactor was, and when she did, she intended to beg, plead and implore him or her to play for them each and every practice until the final concert Easter morning.
For now, she continued to lead her kids through the cantata, page after page. Soloists chimed in exactly right, harmonies came together almost without pause, until the last glorious notes of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” died away.
“Hey, Annie. We did pretty good, didn’t we?” Her godchild grinned from ear to ear.
“You did a fantastic job, Drew. All of you. Thank you.” She included everyone in her smile, delighted by the effort they’d made.
Unable to control her curiosity, Annie turned toward the organ. A man sat there, a gorgeous man with glossy black hair that stood to attention in perfectly sculpted spikes. He had a to-die-for face—all angles and planes—and a smile that would kick any woman’s heartbeat into overdrive. But it was his eyes that held Annie’s attention. Silver gray swirls of glitter danced with sheer exuberance.
“What a group! Sorry for bursting into your practice like that, but that music was just too tempting.” He stood, climbed down from his perch and stretched out a hand. “Russ Mitchard.”
“Bless you, Russ Mitchard,” Annie breathed, eyes riveted on that smile.
Annie let his big warm hand engulf hers. Then her eyes got snagged on marks covering the back of his hand. Those scars were the only flaw in his otherwise perfect image, so she could hardly be blamed for studying them a second time.
“I beg your pardon?” His eyes stretched wide, curious.
Annie flushed. What a time to lose her cool!
“Just—uh, thanks for playing for us. It’s the best recital we’ve ever had. You were a real blessing.”
“Well, I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a blessing. I think I like it.” He grinned, his eyebrows twitching as he glanced at their joined hands. “A lot.” He winked.
“Oh. Sorry,” she murmured as she tugged her hand away. “Annie Simmons.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Annie Simmons. Very nice.”
Something strangely serious underlay his words. It was almost as if he’d been expecting to meet her. What nonsense. Annie shrugged it off as the kids swarmed around him, grilling him about his playing.
Russ answered the best he could with so many voices demanding his attention. His smile remained easy, his attitude relaxed as he tapped out a few songs they knew on the baby grand piano. Minutes later their singing was interrupted when several moms popped their heads inside, stared at Russ and Annie for a few awkward moments, then called their children away.
“Annie, I’m going with Billy. Okay?” Drew hopped from one foot to the other, barely able to wait for her permission.
“Yes, all right. Billy’s mom said she’ll bring you back before dinner.” She watched Drew race out the door. As far as Annie could tell, he wasn’t suffering any ill effects from her mothering so maybe she was doing something right.
With one last look at Russ, the rest of the children filed out until Annie was left alone with him.
“Your son?” Silver-gray eyes perused her curiously.
“Godchild. His parents died in a boating accident last fall. No relatives have come forward to claim him yet, so he stays with me, for now. We both like it.” Why was she telling him this?
“Oh.”
“I want to thank you for your help,” she blurted, wondering how to phrase her next request. “You made all the difference today.”
“Regular organist conk out?” He shrugged into a black leather jacket that fit over his turtleneck like a second skin.
“Something like that. Pastor Burns hurt himself shortly after I agreed to handle the Easter concert. He’s having surgery, so he’ll be out for a while. Unfortunately, his interim replacements don’t play the pipe organ. Nor does anyone else around here.”
“Tough break.” He closed the piano, his hand gentle against the polished wood. “This thing has a gorgeous tone, but as someone I knew once said, nothing can replace the full-blooded intonations of a pipe organ. I’d forgotten that.”
Annie followed him down the aisle, almost jogging to keep up with his long stride. Her curiosity got the better of her.
“Are you visiting Safe Harbor, Mr. Mitchard?”
“It’s Russ.” He stopped, glanced at her. “Sort of.” He tilted his head one way. “Maybe.” A decided negative shake. “No, not really.”
“Nothing like a straight answer.” Annie peeked at him in confusion. “Could you explain that, please?”
“I guess I’d better. Let’s see—where to begin?” He laughed, a burst of pure pleasure that echoed around the sanctuary. He never looked away from her the entire time he considered his answer. His expressive eyes fluctuated from pewter to steel, then glowed like polished silver.
“I used to come to Safe Harbor every summer with my parents when I was a kid. Mom and Dad had a cottage just outside of town.”
“I see.” She didn’t, really, but she pressed on, anxious to know how long he’d be around. Suddenly the nippy spring afternoon seemed warmer. “So you’re back to take a look, relive the memories of your youth?”
If she hadn’t been staring at his gorgeous face, she would have missed the flare of pain that snatched the joy from his eyes. A minute later the look was gone, roguish grin firmly in place.
“No, I’m not interested in the past. I’m interested in the future. I’m going into business here. Perhaps you’ve noticed my shop—The Quest?”
Annie blinked. This hunk owned The Quest?
The gossips were going to be put out. They’d insisted some tacky tourist outfit was setting up shop in their quaint little town and had all but voted to boycott the place. Nobody in their right mind would boycott this charming man, whatever he was selling.
Nobody but her, that is. He might be good-looking, and he was certainly attractive, but she had no intention of getting involved. Not that way. She just needed an organist.
“Well, have you? Noticed my shop?” he prodded.
Annie snapped back to reality, caught