Spearfish Lake -- the lake, not the town -- was once a group of small natural lakes, the largest of which had the same name. No one is totally sure of the derivation of the name, but it's pretty well assumed that the name sprang from the fact that Indians went to spear fish at the rapids where the lake emptied into the Albany River. The rapids are long gone thanks to a dam built in the late 1800s, which raised the lake about 28 feet, submerging the original Spearfish Lake and several smaller lakes. The dam powered a sawmill during the heady clearcut timbering days of the late 1800s and later was converted to generating electrical power. It's a big lake, about 40 square miles, with a very wild and swampy south shore and a rugged, convoluted eastern shore that's rarely visited since no roads near the lake penetrate south of the Spearfish River, one of three rivers that feed the lake.

The lake -- and the fact that a railroad serviced the lumbering town of Spearfish Lake -- drew the attention of a promoter, Dylan O. Sanford, not long after the dam was built. Specifically, what drew his attention was a long, low point, jutting out from the town itself into the new lake. The north side of the point is relatively high and sandy, with a broad, sandy ridge perhaps twelve or fifteen feet above the water not far back from the lake shore. It seemed like a wonderful place for expansive, gaslight-era summer homes, a place to escape the heat of the large cities to the south, like Camden and Chicago.

Sanford's vision became a reality; more than a hundred years later, Point Drive was still lined with large classic Victorian beach-front houses, and it was regarded as far and away the best neighborhood in Spearfish Lake, even though few of the houses were strictly summer houses anymore. People with money, at least in the local sense, lived there; people like Frank Matson, the president of the local bank, and Ryan Clark, who managed the family-owned plywood plant. One of the more relatively modest homes for the neighborhood, although still pretty large by local standards, was the home of Blake and Jennifer Walworth.

When Jennifer had first considered buying the house a dozen years before, she'd been living in Los Angeles, but she'd been in the house many times. It had been owned by the family of a childhood friend, so she knew it was about what she was looking for and in a neighborhood where she wanted to be. Though it was a rather stressy period, and she couldn't inspect the house herself, she'd been wise enough to have Brent Clark go through the house with a fine-tooth comb. In addition to being Ryan's father and Randy's grandfather, he was the owner of Clark Construction, the largest building company in the area, and he knew what he was doing. "The house is sound, no real structural problems," Clark reported to her shortly afterward. "Some fix-up things, but you're always going to have them with a house that old, and I'm not thrilled with the way the house is laid out. But Jennifer, I've got to say that the view is worth putting up with whatever problems the house may have."

That view from the living room lay in front of Blake as he sat there that afternoon, and it was everything that Brent Clark had said it would be. Since Spearfish Lake lays part way between Lake Superior and Lake Michigan, the influence of the lakes often makes for gray and dreary skies in the month of December. However, last night a cold Canadian high had moved in, cold enough to put a skim of ice on the lake; now there was a brilliant blue sky lighting up the wintry view. Nor were his eyes on the fire he'd built in the Italianate marble fireplace that would have dominated the room were it not for the panoramic view of the lake through the wide glass panes in the north wall. There was business to be done.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked Myleigh. "I have some Earl Gray, but also some Lapsang Souchong, and others."

"The Lapsang would be wonderful," the short, dark-haired woman smiled. "I do so adore that smoky tang it possesses."

"Jennifer?" Blake asked.

"I'd love a cup of real coffee," she grumped. "But you probably wouldn't let me have any. Decaf, I guess, unless you'd let me have some of the Lapsang."

"As you wish," he smiled. Myleigh's formality, natural politeness, and good manners could be infectious, he knew from experience. She'd only been here for a few minutes, and already she had him sounding half like an English butler. He quickly headed to the kitchen to put a kettle of water on the stove. While it would have been possible to nuke hot water in a minute or two in the microwave, as a gourmet cook, Blake had his own ideas about what was proper, especially in cooking. He'd no more microwave tea water than he would serve a TV dinner, even to his own dog -- if he had a dog, that is.

"It seems Blake is hovering over you like a mother hen," he heard Myleigh observe to Jennifer.

"Blake has always mothered me," he heard Jennifer say. "It's just that now, it's more so than ever."

Blake stayed in the kitchen to give Jennifer and Myleigh a chance to talk woman talk, although he monitored the conversation just on general principles. Jennifer had been fidgety for months; although the pregnancy was going as well or even better than expected, it was new and unexplored territory for her, too. It had to be worse for her than it was for him, and he did everything he could to try to make it go better.

After a couple minutes, he returned to the living room and the conversation. "I'm surprised to see you here so early," he commented. "I figured you'd head right for Randy and Nicole's."

"Oh, I did," Myleigh said. "But Randy is at work, and Nicole is teaching, so I thought I might as well drop by and see if you were busy."

"No, we weren't busy," Jennifer smiled. "I'm actually glad you came by so early. It gives us a reason to take a break from cleaning up the house."

Blake rolled his eyes but said nothing. They'd been expecting Myleigh to come by sometime today but the odds had been that it would be in the evening. So, Jennifer was wearing an old flannel shirt of his and some rather poorly fitting blue jeans. He was housecleaning-sloppy too, while Myleigh was nicely dressed in a green plaid woolen skirt with a sweater and knit vest, neat as usual, not a hair out of place. But, although it would have been nice to be appropriately dressed for the occasion, they were good enough friends with Myleigh that it didn't really matter. "It was nice you could drop by," he said, hoping to head off discussions of housecleaning. "I have to admit, we've both been looking forward to seeing you. We've been wondering if you had any feedback from Saturday Night down at your college."

"Well, yes, I did," she admitted, a little shyly. "I had some students request that I play Blue Beauty for them some evening, and I'm afraid it got a little out of hand."

"How's that?" Jennifer grinned.

Myleigh sighed. "I'd anticipated just a little group of people in the chamber music room, but when I arrived I found no less than the college president himself directing an immense throng of students, faculty, alumni, and others toward the main auditorium. I had no choice but to perform for them."

"Did it go OK?" Jennifer asked, showing just a touch of concern.

"I think it went adequately, under the circumstances," she sighed, reaching for her purse. "One of my literature students set up lighting and handled the sound, since with that large a horde, amplification was clearly going to be necessary. I thought, overall, it was well received. Others apparently thought so, as well."

With a glint in her eye, she handed a copy of a small newspaper to both Jennifer and Blake. The Marienthalian, presumably the college newspaper, but Blake barely noticed it, considering a screaming headline: Dr. Harris rocks Downs. There was a half-page color picture of Myleigh, wearing what Blake could only describe as a sexy red evening gown, playing Blue Beauty. Not just playing the harp, either, but obviously wailing on it. "Nice outfit," he commented.

Myleigh grinned. "I bought it for five dollars at a garage sale some years ago as part of a practical joke. At the last minute I decided, since we were going to be in the chamber music room, I should be formally dressed for chamber music."

"Whoo-whee," Jennifer grinned, reading the article. "Even considering it's a college newspaper, I'd like to get a review that good. American Pie for an encore? I'll bet that set the place on its ear."

"Oh, indeed," Myleigh grinned. "I could have been there half the night, but Trey, the student I mentioned, realized I was tiring and was wise enough to bring up the house lights."

"So you had fun with it, then," Jennifer observed.

"I dare say I've never been quite so exhilarated in my life," Myleigh said. "So exhilarated, I fear, that it was a bit troubling. Trey and I had a long discussion of the matter afterwards, and he suggested that I bring some of my questions to you. I thought it a wise suggestion, so if you shan't mind, I'd like to place them on the table before you."

"No problem," Blake smiled. "It beats housecleaning, however you cut it."

"Sure, what's the problem?" Jennifer agreed with a smile, although not without shooting an evil glance at Blake.

"I'm not sure I fully understand it myself," Myleigh began hesitatingly. "You realize, of course, that I've performed in public with Blue Beauty many times, but with the exception of the taping of Saturday Night, it's always been very casual and always with a group. Until a week ago Thursday, I had never given a solo performance for a group larger than perhaps five people. So, it's a little overwhelming to be received so well by a crowd which filled a five-hundred-seat auditorium to standing room only."

"It is quite a feeling," Jennifer replied. "It's even better when you do it in front of say, five thousand."

"I cannot imagine," Myleigh shook her head. "In any case, playing Blue Beauty has always been a hobby for me, but the experience cannot help but make me wonder if perhaps I should not possibly consider approaching my music a bit more seriously. I know nothing of the business, but I should like to seek your advice, and if necessary, your mentoring in that aspect."

Blake glanced at Jennifer and could see the glint in her eye as she looked back at him. It was a better opening than they could have ever dreamed of; they'd expected to have to spend some time working their way up to it. Unnecessarily, he gave a little nod; it was more discussion than was needed. He got to his feet.

"Strange you should mention that," Jennifer smiled. "We've been thinking along those lines as well."

Blake handed Myleigh a CD jewel case, and Myleigh began with a frown, "I fear I don't . . . Oh, my word!" It was the only time that either Blake or Jennifer had seen Myleigh well and truly flabbergasted. "But . . . but . . ." she stammered as she stared at the jewel case. On the cover was a picture of her and Blue Beauty, taken in front of the fireplace in that very same room, during the photo session for the cover of At Home.

But this cover was labeled Harp Strings -- and on the bottom, in only slightly smaller letters, Myleigh Harris.

"This is just kind of a working cover," Blake explained. "Just something I ran off on the laser printer. If we can get the rights to that photo in your school paper, it'd work much better. That's some photo. But, if we can't get it, we can set up a photo shoot."

"You're proposing that I record this album?" Myleigh finally managed to get out.

"A little more than that," Blake said, gently easing the jewel case from her unprotesting hand, cracking it open, and easing the CD out.

As Blake popped the CD into a nearby sound system, Jennifer explained a little. "We have recordings of you doing various pieces clear back to the first time you worked with us. I haven't been able to sing much this fall, since I can't breathe right, as big as I am. So, for something to do, Blake and I have been digging through the library and touching things up a bit."

The first strains of music from the speakers filled the room -- it was probably the most advanced sound system in Spearfish Lake, except for the one in the basement. The music was familiar, if only to a small handful that included the three of them: Inland Sea, one of the pieces that Blake and Jennifer had loaned to Randy Clark years ago so that he and Myleigh would have something original to play at college. It just so happened that it was the first of Myleigh's solos that they had recorded, but it made a good opener. Myleigh -- well, actually, more Randy than Myleigh -- had been having trouble with the interpretation, so Jennifer and Blake had coached them a bit on it. But this was even better; Jennifer and Blake had gone over it carefully, working on the mix, adding a little accompaniment to make it an even smoother, more heartfelt piece of music. The enhancements were all very subtle; Myleigh's clear, precise alto voice and the rich sound of Blue Beauty filled center stage.

When the CD reached the end of the first track, Blake paused it. "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

"My . . . word," Myleigh said with a note of awe in her voice. "I have heard the recording before, of course, but I had no idea it could sound that good. That's touched up more than a bit, as you put it."

"Not really that much," Jennifer explained. "Would you like to hear the next track?"

"Why, certainly," Myleigh said, starting to regain her composure a little in the face of this total surprise. "I dare say you have other miracles to shock me."

The next cut was Lore of the Loom, a purely instrumental piece that Jennifer and Blake had written some time before for the guitar, but had never been able to fit to lyrics that made sense. It was just as well; it didn't need lyrics. Myleigh and Blue Beauty gave an impressive performance, but now the background was filled with even more enhancements from other tracks -- including some violin. "You had Shovelhead involved in this project, too?" Myleigh asked when she heard his expressive violin as part of the accompaniment.

"Just a couple of evenings, and a few beers worth," Blake grinned as he heard the tea kettle begin to whistle. "That's Randy on the bass guitar, too."

"My . . . word," Myleigh repeated as Blake headed for the kitchen. He had, after all, heard the album many times before, but the real treat had been watching Myleigh's face, so he made quick work of the tea making. Soon he brought a pot back to the living room and poured tea for all of them as the music continued.

It took over another half hour to get through the whole CD; the tea had been pretty well drained by then, except for Myleigh's -- hers had gotten cold, untouched, as she sat transfixed at the sound of her voice and her harp on the album. Eventually the album ended and silence filled the room for several seconds. "I'm overwhelmed," she said finally, in a small voice. "I can't believe you went to this effort just to awe me. I take it you propose to distribute this album?"

"Told you she was a smart one, Blake," Jennifer grinned.

"As if I didn't know," he said.

"Myleigh, the answer to your question is yes, and no," Jennifer explained. "Yes, we want to distribute an album of you and Blue Beauty. This one has a couple flaws that we'd like to correct. Like, there's an awkward flat spot and a couple of fluffs in Travel Section."

"I noticed," Myleigh nodded.

"We've spent hours trying to work them out at the computer and the mixing panel," Blake explained. "What you heard was about the best we can do with it. We'd like to re-record it, and maybe get some of the gang down here when we do it. To top it off, the album is too short. It needs three more good tracks, maybe two if they're on the long side, but we can blow through it with the gang in a couple days, I think, at least good enough to get us something to work with for polish."

Myleigh frowned. "It could be done, I suppose, but won't it get in the way of the work on Whispering Pines?"

"No," Jennifer said, patting her swollen belly, "This got in the way of the work on Whispering Pines. Like I said earlier, I just don't have the breath to sing like I need to. We'll work on Whispering Pines next summer, and if we can't get all the way through it, we'll pull something out of the library to fill it out."

"But is it going to be worth your while?"

"We think so," Jennifer smiled, "Or we wouldn't have gone this far with it. Myleigh, what this represents is the first step in a new direction for us. After all the talk last summer, you know that we're done with Nashville-Murray, and we're strictly going to record under the Jenny Easton label. We were close to coming to that point before this happened," she explained, patting her belly again. "When Jeremy entered the picture, we agreed that we just don't want to take the kind of time and stress involved to continue recording for them and put up with the travel and promotion work it involves. But you know that anyway. If we wanted to, we could dip into the library and release an album of fresh music each year for years, but we don't want to do that, either."

"There are things that Jennifer and I are good at," Blake added. "There are other things that we're not good at. One of them is sitting on our butts and doing nothing."

"Blake is right," Jennifer agreed. "That's part of the reason we started pulling the band together. It gives us something fresh to work with, new directions to go since we're still going to be writing fresh music along with developing and publishing it. But if we just pulled an album out of the library each year, we'd get stale in no time, since it just wouldn't keep us busy. We've pretty well agreed that one album a year is just about the right amount for Jenny to release, but that doesn't mean that Jenny Easton Productions can't do more than that. To do that, we need other artists. We can take on someone who's young and talented, and dip into the library as we need to come up with mostly original music."

"No point in letting it go to waste, after all," Blake smiled.

"I know you have a tremendous volume of music in your library," Myleigh frowned. "But, I remember Randy telling me that it's not what you would consider commercial."

"Almost right," Jennifer grinned. "It's music that Nashville-Murray didn't consider commercial. They wouldn't have touched Dawnwalker on a bet even now, as a cover. But you can tell from the statements we've sent you whether it's commercial or not."

"I . . . see," Myleigh said, nodding her head.

"The problem we always had with Nashville-Murray," Blake explained, "Was that they only saw Jenny as a country singer and wanted to keep her in that vision. For years, we tried to head her off into different directions, and Nashville-Murray wouldn't have it. Which is why we headed off into doing our own albums a few years ago. We're now in a position where we can release just about anything we want to, and it doesn't have to be drivin' pickups music."

"Mostly, what we're looking to do is to release quality music that interests us, work that we'd like to promote," Jennifer continued. "There are some things we've agreed we probably won't do, like maybe rap, mostly because we don't particularly care for it and don't understand the market. But unusual music, especially if it's unusually good, things an outfit like Nashville-Murray wouldn't touch since it doesn't reach their world view, well, that we're interested in."

Myleigh shook her head. "I dare say, I can't imagine that there would be a huge market for this album, no matter how good it is."

"You're probably right," Jennifer said. "Don't be clearing a spot on your wall for a platinum album. But an album doesn't have to be a blockbuster to be a success, even financially."

"Forgive me for lapsing into baseball analogies, Myleigh," Blake grinned. "Everybody pays attention to a guy who can hit a home run every now and then, but anyone who knows baseball knows that most teams would kill for a guy who can get a base hit two times out of four. Knock-'em-out-of-the-park home runs are rare."

"If you call those homers platinum records, I've only done it a few times," Jennifer said. "And those were years and years ago. But, I've become pretty good at base hits in my old age, and once in a while I can go extra bases, like we did with Dawnwalker. We don't see any reason why we can't be at least moderately successful with Harp Strings, given at least a little bit of promotion. It'll never be a blockbuster, but it's a debut album, so you wouldn't expect it anyway."

"Your debut album could not be called anything but a blockbuster," Myleigh protested.

"It was," Jennifer said. "Partly, it was because it's a very popular genre, drivin' pickups, as Blake calls it, and it went into a market that has a huge fan base with a lot of very expensive promotion. That promotion costs, Myleigh. It cost me in a lot of ways, some of which I don't care to go into, and I'm only now getting over some of the price that I paid."

"I don't think we'd want to put anyone through that for our sakes," Blake said. Even now, he didn't know all the details -- there were some things that happened before he came on the scene, things that Jennifer wouldn't even admit to him -- but they were prices that she had to pay in more than money. They were part of the reason why he'd been hired as her full-time bodyguard in the first place. "Fortunately," he continued, "It's possible to have a perfectly respectable and rewarding career in this business, not be a household word, and still have a life."

"But it is, as you said, rather unusual music," Myleigh said, shaking her head. "Aren't you taking a terrible risk? I could not ask you to do such a thing."

"Not really a risk, Myleigh," Jennifer smiled. "Oh, possibly it is to some degree to our reputation, since it'll be the first Jenny Easton Productions album that doesn't feature Jenny Easton. But financially, it's not a risk."

"I can't believe it," Myleigh shook her head. How could it not be?"

Blake smiled. "Look, Myleigh," he said, "I don't want to get into our financial situation more than I have to, but I will say this much. Our major financial problem is the gouge we have from taxes. If we were to lose money on the album, we'd get it back from the IRS as a business expense. The worst we could do -- the absolute worst -- is to break even. The most likely scenario is that we'll have to give more money to the IRS."

"Well, actually, to Bubba Winslow." Jennifer laughed. "Better him than the IRS."

"Exactly," Blake said. "That's why we've sponsored Josh and Tiffany running the Iditarod, and dumped obscene amounts of money into stock car racing over the last few years. At least we get a little name recognition out of it. We don't even get a thank you note from the IRS."

Myleigh shook her head. "I find it utterly amusing to even think that if this album were to be a great success the ultimate result would be to give more money to a person named 'Bubba' so he can risk his life in a roaring race car."

"Oh, Bubba's kind of a nice guy," Jennifer smiled. "A little rough cut, even for NASCAR anymore, but salt of the earth. We never figured he'd go anywhere, but he surprised us all and won three races last year. Now, darn it, even he's turning into a success on us. But if it weren't Bubba, we'd have to find something else, or," she sighed, "Give it to the IRS."

"Look, this is all really beside the point," Blake said. "It's not a financial risk for us. Don't worry about it. Just releasing it is not a financial risk for you. Now, how hard you work at promoting it will have something to do with the kind of money you'll make from it, and obviously has a bearing on how many tires Bubba can go through. We can throw it out there, not do much to promote it besides send out a few press releases, sell a couple thousand copies and feel good. Or, you and we can work at it a bit, sell a lot more, and really feel good."

"That, I fear, is the part that really worries me, in fact, the part that I wished to speak to you about," Myleigh said. "I do have a career that I have worked very hard to achieve, and which I care for very much. I would not wish this to cause it any difficulties."

"We'll have to take that into consideration," Jennifer said. "However, since we're not Nashville-Murray we can take it into consideration. Yes, we'd want you to do some appearances, some live shows, and put some effort into selling yourself. In fact, the more you do the better, up to a point. There comes a point where it's too much, and I spent years way past that point. If I had been willing to do more of it, I probably would be more of a success lately than I have been. As it is, they've pretty well taken my name out of the Rolodexes at places like Hollywood Tonight and the cheap supermarket tabloids. I've had to lay awful low for a long time to manage that, but I've been there, I've done that, and I'm just as glad that I'm out of it. Just consider yourself lucky that you won't have to take it that far. There's no reason that you can't be a good English literature professor and a moderately successful recording artist at the same time."

"I would hope so," Myleigh frowned. "I confess, I do not share the same optimism you have. If I sang anywhere as well as you do, I suppose I might feel differently."

"Let's face it," Jennifer said, "You don't sing like I do, and that's just as well. In fact, in some ways, you're a better singer."

"I cannot help but think that you laid that one on much too thick," Myleigh smiled.

"No, it's true," Jennifer laughed. "We have different voices, and I have a range and a tone that you don't have. However, you sing a much more pure note, and your diction and phrasing are so much better than mine that it's not funny. I spent too many years whining through Smoke Filled Room trying to sound sort of southern to make Nashville-Murray happy. Your voice is an excellent complement to Blue Beauty, and that's the point, after all. Do you want Blake to run the CD again so I can prove it?"

Myleigh shook her head, "No, I cannot make myself believe it, but I shall defer to your superior judgment," she smiled, "Even though I think you must be deluding yourself. What sort of promotions would you foresee?"

"Nothing too major, and we should be able to work them into your schedule if we plan far enough ahead," Blake said. "Possibly a few college shows like the one you did last week except that you get paid for them. We're always getting requests from colleges to do shows like that, and we rarely can do them. Possibly some of those requests can be turned into dates for you."

Myleigh got an extremely sheepish look on her face. "Actually, Dr. Hamilton asked me to approach you with such a request," she grinned.

"We might have to make an exception for Marienthal," Jennifer laughed. "Not for a while, though. I still like to play fair dates once in a while, and plan to do a few this summer. We can work you into those, even though we're going to have to find a couple songs that lean a little toward drivin' pickups. Not exactly like, say, Lore of the Loom, but Month of Sundays would work fine. And, we could do Dawnwalker, of course. That sort of thing, anyway. The point is that you have a fair amount of free time as a college professor, lots more than someone like or Shovelhead, so there's room to do things like that. We can keep it down to where it's still fun, not a chore."

"Believe me, you don't want to play a solid month of county fair dates," Blake shook his head. "That was my first introduction to Jennifer, back in '83. I got so sick of country music that I didn't care if I ever heard a pedal steel guitar in my life again. But a handful, well, even I enjoy that."

"It sounds very interesting," Myleigh admitted. "Even though I trust the both of you very much, I would be a liar if I said that I do not keep wondering where the fish hook is located."

"We do have a proposed contract," Blake told her. "Up to this point we've worked on a very simple contract, but this is quite a step up. Frankly, we've worked very hard to keep any fish hooks out. We're offering you provisions that we had to fight very hard for years with Nashville-Murray to get, and still failed. Not an hour ago I had a discussion with the president of Nashville-Murray, and they won't offer some of those provisions even to get Jennifer back. There are several interesting points, but one of the important ones is that while we may make recommendations, you have the final say in what gets released. If it doesn't suit you, we can't force you into it."

"We fought like hell with them for that," Jennifer said. "It's the main reason we're heading out on our own."

"Another important point is that you have a veto on promotions and dates," Blake went on. "That's also been a major battleground with Nashville-Murray. What we're proposing is a non-exclusive contract, which is to say that you can take a project elsewhere if you get an offer, although we are asking for the opportunity to make a counteroffer. In addition, the contract isn't for a set period, and either you or we can cancel at any time. You're not locked into it."

"It's not a contract that we'd dream of offering to someone who's established in the country music business," Jennifer said. "The point is that we understand that you have other interests and you're not trying to make a career out of this. However, among the down sides for you is the fact that we're not promising a set base fee, and we're not promising a large amount of promotion ourselves. We are, however, willing to help you develop promotions as your time allows. Frankly, this is new ground to us and we're not sure exactly how we need to go about promoting you. A place like Nashville-Murray usually charges an artist a hell of a percentage for promotion, especially new artists. We're not asking that mostly because we're learning how to do this, and there's the tax angle, too. To be honest, I wish someone had offered me a contract like this when I started out."

"I shall want the chance to study the details, of course," Myleigh said. "But I must confess, it sounds like something perfectly amenable."

"We wouldn't want you to sign it today," Blake said. "In fact, we'd be happy if you took it to an attorney who specializes in entertainment law. If he doesn't tell you to jump on it before we change our minds, I'd be very surprised."

"At least, that's what we hope," Jennifer agreed. "But, if you can agree to the basic concept, we can go ahead with the work that's needed on Harp Strings. We would like to have the contract signed before we actually start pressing, of course."

"Perfectly understandable," Myleigh grinned. "And, of course, I agree to it in concept, even though I find myself utterly amazed at the whole thing. How could I not? It sounds perfectly wonderful."

"Good enough," Jennifer smiled. "Welcome to Jenny Easton Productions, not that you haven't sort of been with us since the beginning."

"That's part of the reason why I'm willing to agree, at least absent the study of the tiny print," Myleigh said. "As I said earlier, I trust the two of you implicitly."

"I hope we can keep it that way," Jennifer smiled. "At least, we intend to do our parts. Now, shall we get down to the fun part, which is figuring out how we're going to finish this album?"

"Of course," Myleigh grinned. "However, Blake, dare I ask you to make another pot of tea? I fear mine has grown utterly cold while we have been having this unbelievable discussion."

"See, Blake?" Jennifer laughed. "We haven't got her name on the dotted line yet, and she's already making demands."

"I'll go, I'll go," he said, shaking his head as he got up.

As Blake headed for the kitchen, Jennifer began. "We had several ideas of cuts we might use to fill out the album, and we can listen to them. But we don't have a lot of time to work up something that you're not familiar with, so we were wondering if you might have any suggestions. It doesn't have to be our work. A first album like this, it's always handy to have a cover or two of someone else's work, just to give the critics something to compare to. It'd have to be something we could get the rights to easily, of course, but if it's something you already have worked up, it would make things go more easily."

Myleigh furrowed her brow. "There is one piece that I did the other night that might work well. It has a very good degree of intensity that I like, and I thought it a good one to immediately drive home to the audience the potential of the Celtic harp."

"Anything I know?"

"A piece called Black Haired Rebel Girl," Myleigh said. "It went over frightfully well. So well, in fact, that it gave me the confidence to proceed with some more ambitious music."

Jennifer shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell," she said. "Where'd you pick it up?"

"Off of a CD that Randy had, back in undergraduate school," Myleigh said.

"Well," Jennifer shrugged. "We can probably track it down, and if I don't know it, then the rights probably aren't going to be too bad. You did bring Blue Beauty with you, didn't you?"

"Of course, she's out in the car," Myleigh said.

"While Blake's making tea, why don't you go out and get her?" Jennifer suggested. "Meantime, I can visit the bathroom. That's another downside of being this pregnant."

"I certainly can," Myleigh said, getting off the sofa.

A few minutes later, Myleigh had Blue Beauty out of the case, spent a little time tuning and fiddling, and launched off into Black Haired Rebel Girl, to Blake and Jennifer's rapt attention. It was, as the Marienthal audience had learned a few days before, an intense piece of music that showcased both the harp and the woman playing it. She played it right down to the heartfelt, intense ending, hardly aware of her audience of two. The last notes died away and she looked at the floor for a moment before she asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"Not bad," Blake smiled. "Not bad at all. I've heard it somewhere before but it'd fit right in the album. What do you think, Jennifer?"

"A wonderful fit," she said. "To tell you the truth, I can't see how I'd want to add much enhancement."

"Me either," Blake said. "It'd be possible to add a little in the bridges, but I think it'd take away from the pure harp tones."

"I'd say it was definitely something to consider," Jennifer said, "If we can work out the rights issues. Do you have any idea of who wrote it? What album it could have been on?"

"Not really," Myleigh said. "I only heard the album two or three times, just enough to get the words and the music, and then added my own interpretation."

"Randy had the album?" Blake asked. "We could call him. He might still have it lying around." He glanced at his watch. "Don't know if he'd be home yet, though. But, damn, I know I've heard that somewhere."

"Now that I think of it, it was on an album by someone with a name something like Hobo John," Myleigh offered.

Blake glanced at Jennifer, who had a huge grin on her face; it matched his own. "Steam Train John, maybe?"

"Why yes, that's the name," Myleigh said brightly. "Do you know him?"

"Oh, hell yes, we know John," Blake laughed. "He'd be a hard one to forget. He was in a couple of the Wonderful Winter World specials. A couple of the best parties we've ever had in this living room were built around him and his guitar. I'm sure his number is in the Rolodex. I'll go look," he said, getting up.

Myleigh shook her head at Jennifer. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize the song."

Jennifer laughed. "It's not as easy as you think. If you think Blake and I are prolific songwriters, we've got nothing on John. He's written literally thousands of songs."

"My word . . ."

"I've got to admit," Blake said from the office off of the living room, "Most of John's music is a little more, uh, shall we say, rough cut, than Black Haired Rebel Girl."

"Uh, yeah," Jennifer said dryly. "He's done some other good stuff, lots of it. But then, there's things like My Little Marijuana Patch."

Myleigh grinned, shaking her head. "Uh, yes," she said dryly.

"All I get is a recording," Blake reported. "He's off in his cabin in the woods for the holidays, he says."

"That means he's in Frozen Butt, Alaska," Jennifer said. "But, I don't see why we can't go ahead with Black Haired Rebel Girl. John will be reasonable."

"Well, we can track him down if we need to," Blake laughed as he came out of the office. "We can send a dog team out after him if it comes to that, I suppose."

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