Michael nodded and helped himself to the opposite end of the piano bench as Kate continued to noodle some random melodies. She operated on muscle memory, barely pressing the keys for noise.

“He may just want to give us the festival.”

“And he’ll be a better man for it.”

Michael huffed a noise under his breath. Clearly, transforming Clark into a better man ranked low on his list of priorities. For a while, nothing passed between them but the music pouring from her fingers. Kate recalled Clark’s enraged voice when he heard the music upon first entering the house. Once he heard the live thing, it would only be a matter of time before he sprinted down here to stop her. Then, she’d have him right where she wanted him. Michael gave her an unreadable look, creeping into the corners of her vision like rolling fog.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like him.”

Kate choked on her own laughter. Clark Woodward was arrogant. Prideful. A complete miser with no regard for the happiness or safety of others. He was a tyrannical boss and a rude host. And he’d never read Dickens. Who graduated with an MBA without reading Charles Dickens at least once? She couldn’t ever see herself liking someone who hadn’t read the greatest in the English canon, even if he did light a fire of excitement in her every time they began one of their verbal sparring matches.

“I don’t like him.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t dislike him either!” She covered for herself, resisting the urge to hold up her hands in a pose of joking surrender. “I feel—”

Michael cut her off.

“You feel for him.”

“I feel bad for him,” she corrected, even though it wasn’t remotely true. Or, rather, it was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth. She did feel bad for him. It just wasn’t the end of her feelings. Horror of horrors, she actually related to him. “Haven’t you ever felt lonely?”

“Well, besides sharing a house with two brothers, I’ve had to deal with you basically my entire life. You never stop talking. No, I’ve never felt lonely.”

“I have,” Kate said, her head dipping down towards the piano keys.

“I know.” Hard edges softened around Michael and he nodded in recognition. They would never speak of the thing that made her lonely, and he knew it. “I know. Just seems like a flimsy reason for you to want to help a guy.”

“I can help him and the town at the same time. Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I just want you to keep your eye on the ball,” Michael said.