Read Online Bluebells on the Hill by Barbara McMahon - Free Book Online Page A

said.
    'Oh, no, we want more than that. Besides, Mac
won't go near the festival, nor let John-Michael. That's when his
wife ran off, you know. No, Mac won't permit that.'
    Amanda was startled. 'She ran off during a
festival?'
    'During the end of summer festival. Yes. Liza
ran off with Cora's son. He’d come back that year to visit Cora. It
was the year he was one of our performers. We had a small group of
actors that year. He's an actor, you know.'
    Amanda was fascinated. She slowly shook her
head. 'I don't know.'
    'Yes, Liza, her name was Elizabeth, same as
mine, but she always wanted to be called Liza. And Doug is Cora's
son. They met and his life sounded so much more exciting to her
than a rancher's. So they left together. Right before the show.
Left us quite in the lurch. Short notice and all.'
    Amanda was growing bewildered, trying to
follow Elizabeth's monologue. Who was left in the lurch, the
program, or Mac?
    'Oh, well, that's a long time ago, now. This
will be our fourteenth annual event. Liza left at number two.'
    'Mac's been alone for twelve years?' Amanda
said, surprised. He must have loved this Liza a great deal to have
remained single, devoted to her memory, for so long. Was he still
hoping she’d return, that they could start again together?
    Unlikely.
    'Well, yes. Mac doesn't like women much.'
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. 'He tolerates me because I'm his
aunt, but he really doesn't have any time for women. Pity, but
there it is.'
    Another surprise. His aunt. Amanda was
beginning to feel like Alice at the tea party.
    'I didn't realize you were Mac's aunt.'
    'Of course. His mother was my sister, you
know. I think Mac tolerates me for her sake.' She sighed gently.
'He's kind to me, which is often more than I can say about his
behavior toward his boy. He doesn't always treat John-Michael the
way I think he should. I guess it is difficult to raise a child all
by yourself.'
    'Did his wife not want custody of her son?'
Amanda asked. These days it was becoming more and more common for
the father to gain custody of his children when families separated,
but not twelve years ago.
    'No. Being a mother wasn't what Liza wanted.
I think that was the major factor in her leaving. She'd had enough.
Mac thought differently, but who's to say. But I digress. It's this
year's festival I must work on. Will you play and sing for us?'
    'I might be able to,' Amanda replied, still
reluctant to commit herself. 'May I let you know?'
    'Yes, I suppose so. I do hope you will. It’d
be such a relief to have that part taken care of. I was hoping to
have your answer today, but as soon as you let me know will have to
do. John-Michael says you have a good voice and Mac said you
excelled in playing the guitar. I'm sure you could find songs to
sing, maybe a dozen or so? It would not be too arduous and would be
such a help.'
    Amanda smiled. 'We'll see.'
    'I'll be satisfied with that,' Elizabeth
Burke said.
    A shadow fell in the doorway. 'Satisfied with
what?' a deep voice asked.
    Amanda looked up to find green eyes
glittering down on her.
    'Hello, Mac,' Elizabeth said, turning in her
chair to see her nephew standing in the open doorway.
    'I didn't hear your truck,' Amanda commented.
'Did you walk down?'
    He shook his head slowly, and entered. 'No, I
was going up the drive and saw Elizabeth's car. Wondered what she
was doing here.'
    'Well, after you and John-Michael told me how
well Mandy sings and plays the guitar, it occurred to me she might
be able to help out for the festival. Since the Renaldis can't
come, I was asking Mandy to sing as the main entertainment,'
Elizabeth explained.
    Amanda watched Mac as Elizabeth explained.
Oddly, she felt a little piqued that he didn't draw a connection
between her name and the fact that she sang. So much for her fame
preceding her.
    Mac glanced derisively at
Amanda. 'Could you put on a show for the whole town?' he asked.
'Plan it out and carry it through?' His look raked her, layabout hippie ne'er-do-well