The Song in My Heart by Tracey Richardson Page B

cheerfulness. The day with Dess had been an unmitigated disaster. Or at least it had become so as soon as she’d stupidly suggested using one of Dess’s compositions in her set. Dess’s freak-out had stunned and shamed Erika, and even now, hours later, she couldn’t jettison the memory of Dess’s clenched face—and her voice, which had sounded like ground-up glass—as she unequivocally nixed the idea. For the rest of the afternoon, they maintained their distance, with Erika retreating to a separate corner of the house until Sloane sauntered in after dinner like the prodigal daughter returning home. She regaled them with the highlights of her two-day Detroit gig with Taylor Swift, and her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Sloane was the glue that kept them together whenever things became strained, and that was never more apparent than now, Erika thought dismally.
    Dess slipped off to bed early, which was just the impetus Sloane needed to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels from the cupboard. She poured herself and Erika healthy glassfuls, and they sat down at the kitchen island. They clinked glasses companionably before Sloane’s jovial mood dimmed.
    “Tell me I’m imagining some frost between you and my best buddy.”
    Erika shrugged. “It’s fine.”
    Sloane raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
    “All right. It was fine. Until earlier today when I suggested we use one of her songs that she’s got squirreled away in those famous binders of hers.”
    Sloane sipped her drink, shook her head lightly.
    “What?” Erika asked. “How was I supposed to know it was a stupid suggestion?”
    “It’s not your fault. Dess is extremely private, that’s all.”
    Private was one thing. But practically hostile? What the hell was that all about? “Sloane, I’m sorry if I’m prying. And I know you’re very loyal to your best friend. But I don’t understand her.”
    Sloane held up her glass in a silent salute. “God knows, it’s no easy accomplishment getting to know Dess. Took me more than a decade, and even then, there are corners of her nobody is allowed to get near.”
    Erika swallowed the fiery liquid and considered Sloane’s observation. “But we’re going to be working closely together for months. It’s impossible to do that and remain strangers.”
    “Yes, and that means you’re going to have to figure out pretty quick what she’s sensitive about, what’s off limits, if we’re to have peace in this little marriage of three.”
    A weight settled on Erika’s heart that not even the bourbon could lighten. Dess was so talented, so full of wondrous gifts. She was beautiful, funny, smart, had a wealth of knowledge and experience and possessed a generous heart. That she carried so much pain troubled Erika.
    “It’s like she’s carrying a mountain on her back,” Erika finally said. “Why? Why is she so bitter? So closed up like a fist about certain things?”
    “It’s a long and complicated story. And it’s her story to tell, not mine. But I can tell you that she’s a bit damaged, if you want to know the truth. And for good reason.” Sloane studied her glass and its waning contents. “Promise me you’ll go easy on her, okay? And that you’ll be patient? Because she really is worth it, kid.” Sloane drained the last of her bourbon. “And on that, you’ll just have to trust me.”
    Erika drained her own glass. She was going to have to figure out how to gain Dess’s trust. And she would, by God, no matter how long it took.
    * * *
    Dess lay in bed, tossing and turning. Maggie’s snoring from her bed in the corner did little to soothe her, the way it usually did. She was still rattled by the way she’d gone off on poor Erika earlier. She had ripped her a new one over her suggestion that they use one of her secret songs, and she was sorry now for overreacting. Erika probably thought she was a spoiled, selfish diva. Or terribly insecure. An apology was needed, she knew, but