Moonlight Man Read Free Page A

light up when you speak of him. So I wondered.”
    “Maybe it’s not that kind of relationship. Yet.”
    “Of course.” Zinnie patted her hand. “But tell me more about him. If you had to describe him in a word, how would you do it?”
    She looked at Zinnie. What an odd question. After a moment’s thought, she said, “I guess I’d say quiet.”
    Zinnie shook her head, her salt-and-pepper hair dancing around her face. “Quiet? Funny, I’d have thought at your age you’d be looking for “exciting,” rather than “quiet.”
    “My age? I’m thirty-seven, Zinnie. I’ve been married.” Her face took on a pensive, unhappy cast. “I’ve had ‘excitement.’”
    “Thirty-seven is still very young, my dear, but it’s your business, of course. Now tell me, who is that utterly gorgeous golden panther of a man whom Jason kept in tow all evening? The one who followed you with his eyes.”
    Sharon pulled a wry face. Trust Zinnie to spot the way the man looked at her. “His name is Marc Duval.”
    “Oh!” Zinnie’s bright blue eyes sparkled. “Yes. Of course. He’s the one who found Jeanie and Max in that cave. I remember meeting him the day they were rescued, and naturally we wrote him a thank-you letter. But that day he’d been dressed in grimy jeans and a plaid flannel shirt with a hunting vest over it. He certainly didn’t look like he did tonight, all sophisticated elegance—suave, debonair, perfect manners, and that delicious little hint of a French accent! He’s a honey, all right. Charm right up to his beautiful eyes. They’re more golden than brown. Did you notice?”
    Did I notice? Only every time I’ve seen him. Only far too much! But Sharon was saved from having to answer as Zinnie went on:
    “Where’s he from? What do you know about him?”
    “Not much, but what I do know I don’t like. He moved onto the grounds of the old Harding place next door last summer and lives in a disreputable camper, which he parked right next to my patio wall. You must have seen it out there. Naturally, we met, or at least developed a nodding acquaintance. I didn’t learn his name until he came into the library one day to borrow some books. He has Jase completely captivated and begging me for guitar lessons now. Lessons from the great Duval, of course,” she added, her tone making it clear just how she felt about the situation.
    Zinnie raised her brows. “Well? That’s a problem?”
    Sharon sighed. “I don’t want Jason to have anything to do with”—she nearly said “him,” but changed it at the last moment—“music. I want him to be just a normal, happy little boy. I do not want him to grow up to be a musician. And Marc Duval keeps encouraging him. Why, that man is the reason Jason, and then Jeanie and Max, got lost in the first place,” she added indignantly.
    “Every night the man plays one instrument or another; his harmonica, guitar, flute, whatever, and Jason loves to hear him. When he told me he was spending the night with a friend, what he intended to do instead was sneak onto the porch swing to listen to him play. So he lied to me about where he was going and to make it look good went off down the trail and spotted that rabbit. The rest is history.”
    She sighed unhappily. “It’s my fault, I know. For his first seven years, Jason was exposed to music daily. He misses it. He even told me so, but I didn’t want to hear him.”
    She sighed again, and there was almost a sob in her voice. “I don’t want to hear Marc Duval’s music either, but I do. It was awful in the summer. I couldn’t sit outside because he was always playing something. And now … Oh, heavens! I almost forgot! He told me he’s bought the house and is moving in. And I’ve been hoping he’d be moving on!”
    Zinnie touched Sharon’s hand. “So why don’t you play for Jason if he wants to hear music so badly?” she asked gently. “It doesn’t mean he has to grow up to be a musician. But how can it hurt for