“Dear lord, man, no; we’re just going to talk to him.” George set down his bass, sat on the edge of the stage, and pushed off. “I don’t need you to go all Sam Jackson on his ass.”

“Okay, first, Sam?” Toby gave Charlie’s shoulder’s one last squeeze and murmured, “Do not leave without saying good-bye. And second,” he continued, raising his voice as he fell into step beside George, “Samuel Jackson has never been in a movie with an accordion.”

“On the plane . . .”

“That was an anaconda.”

“So . . .” Charlie turned to Gary as the argument shifted to background noise. “. . . fancy meeting you here.”

“I’m working.” He smiled as he came closer and dropped to sit on the edge of the stage. “Looks like you haven’t made it home yet.”

“It’s complicated.” Charlie grinned. “This is me not telling you the road is my home. So, where’s Sheryl?”

“She was at the art fair, so I expect she’s trying to find out what happened at the house. You know, when it blew . . .” He swung his legs and rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “. . . I thought I heard the last few bars of ‘The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.’”

“That’s weird.” Charlie’d stopped playing when the windows blew, so Gary’d heard the music continuing on its own. As a rule, she had no problem with music taking on a life of its own—it happened often enough even without her help—but the memory of the bears’ awareness sizzling over her skin added a little emphasis to her reply.

“Yeah.” They considered weird together for a moment, then Gary shook his head and said, “Listen, I want to thank you for giving me Dave’s number. I’ve barely been on the road for twenty-four hours and I’ve got work for the next month.” Brows dipping in, he waved a hand at the crowd ignoring the stage. “Hopefully. Anyway, I owe you.”

“Good.” She hadn’t decided how she was going to do this, but, now he’d admitted he owed her, blunt and to the point seemed like the best idea. She’d had a long day and she just wanted it to be over. “Want a chance to pay me back?”

“Sure.”

“Tell me why you think that millions are going to die?”

“What?”

Oh, yeah. It was Gary. She could hear both the initial panic and the gone a little bit crazy in his voice.

“Specifically, you thought . . .” Charlie tapped her fingers against her thigh, the rhythm jogging free the exact words Dan had overheard. “. . . can’t tell people the sky is falling, millions will die in the panic. Then you thought: . . . don’t find a solution in six months, millions will die in the panic anyway.”

His eyes wide, he licked his lips and leaned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”