“Do I have to?”

“Depends on whether you want me to show you an easier way to play the F chord.”

She stared at the spot under the sound hole where his fingers had worn off the finish. “I told Aunt Gayle that Trinity was with me when she was really with her boyfriend. And I had to buy them cigarettes.”

“She’s eleven!”

“But her boyfriend is fourteen, and Trinity’s very mature for her age.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s mature all right. Gayle needs to lock that kid up, and I’m going to tell her so.”

“You can’t. Trinity’ll hate me even more.”

“Good. Then she’ll keep away from you.” Since he didn’t have the details worked out, he stopped himself from telling Riley she wouldn’t be seeing much of Princess Trinity anymore. He knew now that he could never put Riley under Gayle’s dubious supervision. Riley wouldn’t like going to boarding school, but he’d plan as much of his travel schedule around her vacation dates as he could so she didn’t feel abandoned. “How did you get cigarettes?” he asked.

“This guy who worked at the house. He bought them for me.”

Riley, he’d learned, had turned bribery into a survival technique. It made him ashamed. “Did anybody ever watch out for you?”

“I know how to watch out for myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” He couldn’t believe he and Marli had denied her something as basic as her own guitar. “Did you tell your mother how much you wanted to play?”

“I tried to.”

In the same fumbling fashion she’d tried to tell him. How could he blame Marli for not paying more attention when he’d been even worse?

“Could you show me that F chord now?” she said.

He demonstrated how to bar only the top two strings, which was easier for small hands. Finally, he offered her the guitar. She wiped her hands on her shorts. “It’s really mine, right?”

“It really is, and I couldn’t have found a better person to give it to.” Suddenly, he meant every word.

She cradled the guitar against her body. He held out a pick. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

He smiled as she slipped the pick between her lips, just as he did, while she repositioned the instrument. When she was satisfied, she pulled the pick from her mouth and, gazing intently at her left hand, struck an F the way he’d shown her. She picked it up right away, then played the other open chords. “You’re doing that pretty well,” he said.

She beamed. “I’ve been practicing.”

“How? I thought you had to give Trinity her guitar back.”

“I did. But I made one out of cardboard so I could work on my finger positions.”

His lungs constricted. He pushed himself out of the chair. “Be back in a minute.”