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head. “Holy cow, Sam, I didn't know you had that kind of romance in you!”
    Chris was still talking. “Do you have other songs like that that you've written? Man, I'd love to see us record that, heck, both of 'em! And I wanna see anything else you got! Please?”
    Sam was turning red. “Yeah, I've got a few more,” he said, “but this is getting way outa hand! I didn't come here to sing, I came to listen.”
    “He's good,” Stan said suddenly. “He's really good. I mean, like he's almost as good as Barry, but in a different way.”
    “Yeah,” Chris said. “I totally agree, man, I totally agree!”
    Stan walked up to Sam and looked him in the eye. “Would you fill in til Barry comes back? We can teach you our songs, that's no big deal, but we need a lead singer. Chris doesn't have it, and neither do I or the girls. We're all good on harmony and backup, but we need a good lead. If you'd stand in, we could make some of our gigs that are scheduled, and to be perfectly honest, man, we need the money!”
    Sam stared at him, as the rest of the band suddenly jumped onto the idea. Even Indie was nodding her head, as Sam was shaking his. “Come on, now, all of you,” he said. “I'm no singer, I'm a private eye! I haven't been in front of an audience in better than twelve years!”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?” Chris asked him. “You've got the voice, you've got a style—man, I'm telling you, this is a great idea! And it might even be the thing that'll get Barry to come in out of the cold! I mean, how would you feel if you were the lead singer of a band, and suddenly you get replaced by an unknown? You'd get mad, right? If he hears about it, maybe he'll come back and we can find out what happened!”
    The conversation just went downhill from there, as far as Sam was concerned, but in the end, he agreed. The band would begin teaching him their songs the next day, and he assured them he'd be there at two to start learning.
    The thing that finally convinced him to go along with it wasn't any hope that Barry might show up, however; it was Indie's comment that his songs got to her heart and made her feel as if he was actually singing to her. He didn't know what to say to that, because, if he were to be honest with himself, he sort of was. He had specifically chosen those two songs from his personal repertoire because they made him think of her when he let them run through his mind.

 
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    Sam and Indie made it home about six, after stopping down at the Mitchells' place to pick up Mackenzie. Indie was all excited as she told the little girl that Sam was going to be a singer, and then he had to get out his guitar and sing a song for her, to prove it.
    “Never had a child that young call me a fibber, before,” he said to Indie, and she laughed.
    “My daughter is a lot like her mother,” she said. “You tell one of us something, you better be ready to back it up! Why didn't you ever tell me you could sing like that?”
    Sam looked at her, letting his head rock around a bit as if confused. “Um, excuse me,” he said, “but if I recall correctly, I've known you for about two whole weeks, now. Since I haven't been trying to make time with you, saying, 'hey, let me serenade you' didn't seem to be too high on my list of priorities, sorry about that! I'm sure I would have mentioned my music sooner or later, it just hadn’t seemed to fit into our conversations so far.”
    Indie stared at him for a moment, and then stunned Sam by turning and running up the stairs to her room. He heard the door slam a second later, and then Kenzie came to him.
    “What's the matter with Mommy?” she asked, and Sam only shook his head.
    “Sweetheart, I wish I knew!”
    Upstairs, Indie was laying across her bed, and fighting back the tears that were trying to come.
    Just stop it, she thought. Okay, so he doesn't see me that way, I get it! And like he said, Dummy, you've only known him two weeks; be kinda stupid to be