Page 77 of Cabin Fever Baby
I tapped the screen and pulled up the music app linked to my phone. He laughed as the song piped through the speakers. Q’s strong, raspy voice paired beautifully with Steve Perry’s and I got my own little concert.
Even after all the years I’d witnessed him singing—even before he was famous—it never ceased to amaze methatvoice lived inside him.
It transformed him every time. Q just needed a little nudge with music.
It truly was his happy place.
The song ended a few minutes before I pulled up to Rory Ferguson’s circular drive. It was a modest home on the edge of the suburbs of Crescent Cove. On first look, it was similar to any other ranch style house, but as the trees gave way, a massive building sprawled out behind the house.
Rory had talked of building a studio as his home base so he could be home more often. Guess he’d finally made it happen.
It was just getting dark as we walked up the drive.
The front of the house was decked out with large vintage Christmas bulbs in cheerful red and green. A snowman, half buried by the storm and mounds of snow that had been plowed off the drive, held his hand up in greeting.
The door swung open, and Rory rushed out to meet us. “There ya are!” His musical Irish accent was always so welcoming.
He gathered Q into a tight hug. “I can’t believe you came to the Cove.” Rory waved to me. “Nice to see you too, Ocean Breeze.”
I took a turn with the hearty hug. Rory was a bit shorter than my brother and as charming as he was talented.
“It was O’s idea to rent a house on the lake for all of us.” Q grinned at me. “Don’t think a blizzard was on the rental agreement, though.”
“This is even a bit much for Crescent Cove, to be honest. It’s not unheard of to have a foot or two, but the snowbanks are taller thanme.”
“Not hard,” Quentin teased.
Rory elbowed him. “Just because you and your brothers are freakishly overgrown doesn’t mean I’m a little guy.”
“Hi.” A girl that had to be heading for double digits clomped outside with pink winter boots, a matching unzipped jacket, and a fuzzy reindeer sweater with a jaunty red ball for a Rudolph nose in the middle of her belly. “Are you a friend of Da’s?”
“Ri-Ri, this is Quentin. I think you might have met him once at the studio.”
She waved. “I meet lots of musicians at Da’s studio.” She narrowed her eyes for a moment before recognition hit. “Oh, my bestie’s big sister has a poster of you on her door.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think she kisses it—a lot.”
Q laughed and tugged her messy braid. “We’ll let that be our little secret.”
She grabbed Quentin’s hand. “Come inside. Mama said she made your favorite ice cream into a cake.”
I glanced at Rory.
He shrugged. “Ivy makes specialty ice cream. It’s the off-season, but she loves to show off for guests.”
“How’d she know my favorite ice cream?” Quentin asked as he was dragged along by Ri-Ri—aka Rhiannon.
“I’m not sure how my ginger fairy knows anything, but she has her ways.”
I bumped companionably against Rory. “Probably from theVarietyinterview. They asked him some wild questions. It reminded me of theTeenmagazines when I was a girl.”
“Knowing Ivy, you’re right. Ian and Simon showed up with a song idea so they’re inside too.”
“Ian and Simon Kagan?” My belly did a little dip. I was mostly immune to musicians after working for Q, but the Kagan brothers were…different.
“Yeah, they’re locals. Kind of.” Rory gestured for me to go up the stairs before him. “Their family owns Happy Ac—uh, Brothers Three Orchard.”
“Oh, Laverne!”
“You’ve met the fair Laverne. She’s a goddess.”