![]() Aunt Edwina had purchased and taken over the management of the place years ago, when Rachel had been less than five years old. ![]() Rachel had lived in this small hotel, the exclusive Sommerville Towers, for as long as she could remember. What would she do with herself then, all alone in that big house so far from everything and everyone she knew? He was often out of town on business, as he was at the moment, and was sometimes gone for weeks at a time. The man spent most of his days at his vineyard, which was several hours north of San Francisco. In the back of her mind, a niggling certainty ate at her: Once she married Daniel there would be few, if any, evenings such as this. ![]() It twisted and twirled and robbed her of peace. Tonight her mind wouldn’t be still as she sang. ![]() These musical evenings were Rachel’s greatest joy. Once she finished, there was usually someone else in the crowd who could be persuaded to sing or play the fiddle or strike a tune on the piano. She didn’t think herself a great singer, not by any means, but she had a pleasant voice. Aunt Edwina had been arranging these musical evenings for hotel guests for the past three years, since shortly after Rachel had turned seventeen. She could close her eyes and lose herself in the music, for a while, and that’s exactly what she did as she sang the haunting love ballad, Lorena. It made her heart soar, her troubles fade. ![]() Singing was the only real pleasure Rachel Sommerville knew. ![]()
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