Making Magic by Donna June Cooper Page B

dresses in town.”
    “You can be my other maid-of-honor,” Mel exclaimed.
    “You can have more than one?”
    “No rules against it. Even if there were, who cares? This’ll be perfect! I can easily put together another bouquet.”
    Thea swallowed. “But I-I don’t have any shoes to match.”
    “No worries. Everyone is wearing these cute foldable flats, including me. The better to dance in!” Mel said. “Mine are dyed to match your dresses, but yours are ivory to match mine. The boutique has them in ivory in every size. I need to go into town to get my hair trimmed anyway, so you can try on the dress and get the shoes.” She literally bounced. “Oh, I hope they still have the dress.”
    Thea had this vision of some kind of horrid poofy meringue that she would never wear again, but she forced a smile. “Sounds great.”
    “You’re lying,” Mel said. “But you will love it—I promise.”
    “At least Mel didn’t try to get you to play with the band,” Daniel said. “She talked about it earlier.”
    “Oh.” That was a blessing. “You’re having live music?” Thea asked.
    “Yes. They’re called Songs in the Wood,” Grace said with a particularly smug smile. “Jake Jake Beefcake’s group.”
    Jake set down the tuning wrench, unclipped the tuner, rolled his shoulders and picked up his hammers. Much to the delight of the couple browsing the store with their young son, he started playing “Tarantella Napoletana” on the hammered dulcimer he had just tuned. Jake grinned as the little boy started clapping in time with the beat of the classic piece of Italian culture, something he’d probably only ever heard used in pasta commercials. Mel and Daniel had been practicing the traditional Tarantella dance steps so that they could perform it at the reception to surprise her father.
    It was going to be quite the mixture of music—a bit of Italian, a bit of Celtic and a bit of good old mountain music, with a few interesting choices for the bridal couple dances. Jake almost wished he could be on the dance floor for this one. It wasn’t the first wedding his group had done, but it was the first one that was so musically eclectic.
    He glanced out at the street, finished the Tarantella and started into the “Chicken Dance” song, something Mel had specifically requested. The little boy immediately started going through the motions and his parents soon joined in. Jake grinned and played with equal enthusiasm.
    So far the dulcimers sounded as good as they looked—and they looked pretty damn fine. Although he still had one more to string and tune, he was feeling upbeat about the odds of selling one this weekend and maybe getting some orders for custom work. His new business cards were ready and he’d been checking out the online storefronts of other instrument builders. It had only been a hobby—an avocation. He had never seriously thought about trying to make a living at it until the Woodsman’s death. Even then, it had taken getting shot in the gut to really set him on the path.
    His father had been a bit dismissive of his music, considering it not quite macho enough for the son of a sheriff and had encouraged him to try one sport after another instead. Though he had excelled at anything involving throwing a ball or shooting a gun, music had been his first love. Jake had only pursued law enforcement because the world seemed to expect him to walk in his father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, which, looking back, was a damn stupid reason to do anything.
    But he had proven to his dad and the people of the county that macho wasn’t measured by the caliber of a gun, but by the mind of the man wielding it. He still held the record for the highest firearms qualification scores in the state. Of course, now he knew why.
    With a grim smile, he launched into the bouncy Irish jig “A Fig for a Kiss” and enjoyed watching the little fellow’s face as he sped the tune up faster and faster until the hammers were