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blue eyes. Since they had a ways to go before they reached her car, Jared decided to use that time to find out a few things about this attractive blonde.
    He started with an easy question. “How long have you been playing the violin?” he asked her.
    She knew the exact moment she had started playing in earnest, but for simplicity—and because the story wasn’t one she shared with someone she’d just met—she said flippantly, “Sometimes it feels as if I were born clutching a violin in my hands.”
    “Must have been a really rough delivery for your poor mother,” he deadpanned.
    The mention of her mother—even in jest the way this obviously was intended—always brought a sliver of pain piercing her heart.
    Though her mother was gone by the time she had entered kindergarten, Elizabeth had a handful of memories that she treasured and hung on to for dear life. One of those memories involved listening to her mother playing the violin for her father.
    It was shortly after her mother’s death, in an effort to try to cheer her father up, that she picked up her mother’s violin and began to play it. She managed to miraculously recall the way her mother had stroked the bow over the strings while fingering them. What resulted might not have been ready to be heard in any concert hall, but at least it didn’t sound as if she was scraping her nails against a chalkboard.
    Immensely touched and even more impressed, her father signed her up for violin lessons the very next day. To that end, he also gave her mother’s violin to her to use during her lessons.
    Elizabeth could remember regarding the violin nervously. To attempt to play it once in order to cheer up her father was one thing, to suddenly become the keeper of this precious instrument was quite another. And quite a responsibility.
    She recalled looking up at her father and asking, “Daddy, are you sure?”
    “Very sure,” he’d told her firmly, then added the words that completely won her over. “Your mother would have wanted you to have it.”
    Entrusted with this sacred duty, Elizabeth had taken loving care of it, taking great pains to keep the violin in top playing condition. When it finally had to be restrung, she retained the original strings, putting them carefully into an envelope and tucking the envelope away in her jewelry box, something else that she’d inherited from her mother.
    Jared noticed the serious expression that had crossed her face. Noticed, too, that she had suddenly become very quiet.
    “I’m sorry,” he apologized, thinking this sudden change in her attitude was his fault. “Did I say something wrong?”
    Elizabeth shook her head. He had nothing to do with the thoughts that were going through her head. Her mother had been gone for twenty-one years, but there were times that it felt like only yesterday.
    “No,” she told him softly. “I was just thinking.” That was an open-ended sentence, begging for more of an explanation, and she knew it. But for the moment, she didn’t feel like going into it. She had no desire to either unload, or to make him feel uncomfortable and guilty for raising the subject of her mother, however innocently, since she had passed on.
    “About...?” he prodded.
    “Nothing of importance,” she finally said. “This violin belonged to my mother, and I was just worried that I might have nicked it earlier,” she lied. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m obsessing.”
    “Not at all. Perfectly normal to want to take care of a beautiful thing,” he said.
    He was being kind, she thought, finding herself more and more drawn to this handsome, likable man.
    “Your mother used to play?” he asked her.
    Elizabeth felt pride swelling within her. “Like an angel.”
    But even as she said it, it occurred to Elizabeth that she was spending too much time talking about her personal life. While friendly, she didn’t usually open up this much about herself. It was definitely time to change topics.
    “So,