When Bobbie Sang the Blues Read Online Free Page A

father, aren’t you?”
    Fifty-four years beneath the Florida sun had sketched deep lines on Jack’s forehead. Those lines deepened at the mention of his son’s name. “Yeah.” A halfhearted grin worked the corners of his mouth, and he turned to Christy, placing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her gently. “Since we lost Chad, I’ve claimed this little gal as my daughter. So life hands out a few rewards, I guess.”
    Christy felt the warmth of his muscled arm around her shoulders, and she smiled into his eyes, once as blue as the deep water of the Gulf. Sun and age had paled the irises, and now Christy thought of the sky rather than the Gulf when she looked at him.
    Bobbie cleared her throat. “Jack, I want to open a shop here. Maybe you’d have a suggestion on locations.”
    Jack turned to her. “What kind of shop?”
    “I have a little hobby—make that an obsession—for turning trash into treasure.”
    “Oh?” Jack munched on the biscuit, studying her carefully. He looked back at Christy. “Maybe she can work on me.”
    “Stop it.” Christy swatted his shoulder. “Aunt Bobbie is a very talented lady. She’s won awards in magazines and craft shows.”
    “Just a few little awards here and there. I simply love restoring old things. I believe I see the treasure in a trashed object when most people only see the brokenness.”
    Jack stared at her. “Well, that’s a real interesting concept. And this area is known for its treasures, especially the buried kind, like you say.” He took a sip of coffee and looked from Bobbie to Christy. “Why don’t we take a little ride and look around? I can think of a couple of places that might work.”
    “You two go right ahead,” Christy said. “I’m expecting a call from my editor in”—she glanced at her watch—“exactly ten minutes. I’m stuck on a plot point and need her advice.” She reached for her purse, and Jack stood up to let her out of the booth.
    “I’m paying,” Jack insisted, “so scoot.”
    “Hey, Christy, I’m singing at the Blues Club again tonight,”Bobbie called after her. “Donna invited me to do a couple of sets. Why don’t you stop by around nine?”
    Christy hesitated, wondering if Dan would be there. Seeing him would be awkward. Still, she couldn’t disappoint her aunt. “Sure. I’d love to hear you sing.”
    “Then I’ll see you later, darlin’,” Bobbie said.
    Waving to Jamie and Miz B, Christy yelled, “I’m in a hurry—see you later!” She dashed out the door and down the steps.
    And smack into the arms of Dan Brockman.
    “Whoa,” he said, holding on to her.
    Even in jeans and a sweatshirt, Dan epitomized tall, dark, and handsome. But that wasn’t the reason Christy had fallen in love with him. He possessed sound morals, depth of character, and a sense of humor that drew her to him like surf to the shore.
    “Hi,” she said, trying to read his expression through the dark sunglasses that protected his blue eyes.
    “Hi to you. Don’t you ever return phone calls?” He didn’t sound angry, but he didn’t sound friendly either.
    Warm feelings rushed over Christy as they stood for a moment, staring into each other’s faces. She’d met him in February of last year, and since then Dan had changed from the eager-to-please guy fresh out of Iraq with a military haircut and idealistic expectations of himself and others. These days he spoke his mind more quickly, immersed himself in his building projects, and seemed to avoid the subject of a future commitment.
    “People are beginning to stare,” he whispered. “But I don’t have a problem with that.”
    Christy blinked and stepped back. His arms dropped to his sides. “Didn’t we do this once before?” she asked.
    “Yep. After I tried to persuade you to go out with me, and you swore you didn’t have time for dinner. Then I caught you, literally, dashing out of the restaurant with that faraway look in your eyes. Like today.”
    “Panic might be a