The Light at Dawn releases on 2/7/19. Get your copy here: books2read.com/LightatDawn

The sun was finally sinking toward the horizon, casting the distant buildings in silhouette as they towered into the vast orange tapestry of clouds. Mark parked his truck and headed inside the hotel, searching for the bar, which had some generic sports pun-type name. He spotted her immediately; there was a blue halo around her light reddish-brown hair from the Blue Moon sign hanging over her. She looked like an angel, just like her name.

He tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to whip around then burst into laughter as she clutched her chest. “Hi, Mark, you made it!”

“I did.” He pulled out the barstool next to her. “What’re you drinking?”

“Oh, just water for now,” she answered. “I’m not really used to drinking, and I think I got too tipsy earlier.” She playfully rolled her eyes and laughed again.

He loved the sound of her laugh. If only he could bottle it up and crack open a can of that on days he felt lonely, days he realized Ashleigh was headed off to college in less than six months, and then it would just be him in his big old house, all by his lonesome. Shit, I can’t be thinking those kinds of thoughts tonight, he scolded himself.

“Well, maybe we should go someplace else to talk? Someplace quieter?” he suggested as she took a sip of her water through a straw. There was a lemon wedge perched on the edge of the plastic blue cup.

She pulled back from the straw and stared at him with a little storm brewing in her eyes. What was it? Disapproval? “If you’re angling to get an invite up to my room, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” she clarified and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed to be offering him an ultimatum—take it or leave it.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply—” He quickly realized the error of his ways. “I just meant it’s really loud in here and hard to hear.” He pointed to his ear. “I’m also just a little hard of hearing in my left ear.”

“Oh.” She wore a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Well, I mean, I would go up to your room if you wanted me to, but we hardly know each other…yet,” he recovered, matching her grin. “You want to find a spot in the lobby?”

She nodded, and he was glad the bartender had never come back for his order. He left a tip anyway for her drink and ushered Angelia back into the grand lobby, which was still bustling with hotel guests on a Saturday night. There was obviously a wedding somewhere. A flurry of wedding guests dressed to the nines filtered off down a hallway, perhaps to the reception in an elegantly appointed ballroom. He led her down the opposite hallway, filled with smaller meeting rooms. They were all deserted, but there were a few couches arranged next to a baby grand piano in a waiting area at the far end of the corridor.

“Oh, what a gorgeous piano!” she gasped, hurrying her pace to reach it. She ran her fingers across its glossy black curves.

“I used to play a little,” Mark revealed.

“Did you really?” She turned to meet him with her honey brown eyes. They were so soft and lovely the way they roamed over his face, seeking untruth. When he nodded, she playfully touched his arm. “Oh, play something for me, will you?”

He tried to dismiss her, waving his hand like he couldn’t possibly be put on the spot, but she had such a pleading look in her eyes. It seemed to say if only he would sit and play something for her, it would be a moment she would never forget. And he liked the idea of making a lasting impression on her—even if nothing else happened that night. So he scooted the bench out and settled his bulky 6’2” frame down in front of the beautifully finished keys.

They were so sleek and shiny under his thick, rough fingers. He closed his eyes and began to weave together the notes of a Chopin nocturne he had first learned at age fourteen, only a couple of years before he quit formal lessons, insisting piano was too girly. The melody was haunting with meandering minor arpeggios and grace notes, classic Chopin.

When he wound it to a close, so soft the last notes were barely heard, he glanced up to see tears shining in Angelia’s eyes. His playing had moved her to tears. He could scarcely believe it. Who was this woman who was laughing one moment and crying the next? She was all four seasons rolled into one beautiful package.

She had taken a seat on one of the couches, so he stayed on the bench, spinning his body around to face her. “So, what is it you do in the Adirondacks, Angelia White?” he questioned. “Besides bake cakes?” He remembered her business card.

“Oh, not a lot,” she replied with a smile, and he noticed for the first time the faintest dimples on either side of her mouth. “My children are both in college this year, so…I have a lot more free time on my hands.” She looked as though she was about to say something else, but her parted lips closed before any more words could escape.

“So you took a trip to Austin with your friends?” His curiosity was only growing instead of being remotely satisfied.

“Well, I was actually here for an event,” she noted as though it wasn’t of importance. “So what do you do, Mr. Lyon?” Her face brightened as soon as she said his name. He liked the way it sounded in her soft voice.

“I’m a general contractor,” he answered, “and apparently an amateur pianist.” He chuckled. “Our kids must be around the same age, because I’ve got one about to graduate in June.”

“Oh, yes, that senior year is so tough,” she agreed. “I went through it twice, and it’s not for the faint at heart! Boy or girl?”

“Daughter,” he answered. “She’s going to UTA, uh, University of Texas at Arlington in the fall. She’s a great girl. Swimmer, National Honor Society, the whole nine yards. She’s perfect.”

“I bet she is,” Angelia agreed, smiling. “I hope everything goes well for her last couple months of school.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.” He studied the way her eyes creased when she smiled. Her features were so open and sincere. She conveyed a remarkable, if not paradoxical, combination of innocence and wisdom, not to mention the entrancing dimples on either side of her full, berry-colored lips.

They shared their first awkward silence before Angelia jumped back in with, “So what are you doing in Austin? Just hanging out with friends?”

He shook his head, still smiling. He didn’t think he’d stopped smiling since he first spotted her earlier in the evening. “I’m actually the chapter president for the Texas Rifle Association. We had a big rally here today.”

The sweet look that had enraptured her features ever since he’d finished the Chopin nocturne vanished in a flash. He glanced down at her hands and noticed they were trembling.

“Everything okay?” He moved off the piano bench and took a step toward her, but she leapt off the sofa and took a step away from him. “What is it?” he pressed.

“I—” She shook her head, her voice suddenly tight, restricted. “I was here for the gun control rally,” she managed.

“Oh.” In just that brief amount of time, all the color had drained from her face. “So, we’re on opposite sides of the debate.” He chuckled. “It’s okay. I won’t tell your friends you’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

She shook her head, taking another step back. “I’m sorry, I think I should go—” She began to turn.

“Angelia, wait,” he called after her. When she took a few steps, he jogged to catch up, grabbing her hand before she could get any farther down the hall.

She jerked it away and turned to face him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” He pinned his sincere gaze on her, looking for a second chance in her warm brown eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was enjoying getting to know you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said. “I lost my son in a school shooting.”

Mark stood there, speechless. How in the world could he respond to that?

She shrugged and shook her head at his silence. “I’m sorry. It was nice to meet you. But I have to go.”

Without another word, she turned again and continued down the hall, her heeled boots clicking on the shiny marble floor tiles. This time, Mark did not chase after her.