This can't be the place, Annette thought. She'd been in some of the homes around Nashville where some of the big stars in the industry lived, and some of them were downright palatial. This was a nice enough house, but certainly not the biggest in the neighborhood. She'd driven past it once and the number was right, but she couldn't believe that Jenny Easton would live here . . . it was a pretty decent town, but nothing special, just like the house. She was so unsure she drove back out to the nearest cross street, and there was the sign -- Point Drive. Well, it wouldn't hurt to stop and ask, she thought, swinging the rental Kia Rio into the driveway.

Despite what Brenda had said, she'd done in-home interviews before and knew the drill. An hour would probably cover it, a few good quotes, usually puffing the current album, a publicity person hovering close by. She'd scheduled an extra day just to be on the safe side but still expected to be out of here in the afternoon. Maybe she could catch a flight back as far as Chicago and spend some time poking around there. There were a couple clubs that might be worth sticking her head into; they might provide a story or two.

She was so sure that this couldn't be the right place that she didn't bother taking a pad, her recorder or her camera from the car with her. She knocked on the door, once, twice, and was about to give it up when she heard footsteps coming her way. She looked up to see a medium-height young man, not bad looking, come to the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm looking for the Walworth residence," she said. "I'm Annette Funston, from the Nashville Tennessean."

"Wow, you're early," the young man said. "Jennifer and Blake weren't expecting you for another hour or so."

"I came right through," Annette said, realizing that this really was the right place.

"Well, come on in, make yourself comfortable," the young man said as he opened the door for her. "If you drove right through you probably could stand for some lunch. I was just about to get something myself. Something to drink, maybe?"

"Lunch sounds good, whatever you're having," she said, looking around the inside. It was a nice house, upper middle class, certainly not ostentatious or glitzy. Well, Jenny Easton had the reputation for being one of the better-off people in the business partly because she didn't throw her money around. "I could stand a Coke."

"Well, come on out to the kitchen and we'll see what I can find in the refrigerator. I know there's some turkey and spinach salad there unless someone went through it already. Jennifer and Myleigh went over to Wendy's for a bit, and Blake's getting groceries for tonight. He said something about grilled halibut steaks. Hope that's something you like."

Annette shrugged. "I guess I didn't know I was supposed to stay for dinner."

"They're figuring on it, as far as I know," the young man said. "Some of the band usually comes over before dinner after which they go into session, and I think the plan is for you to catch some of it."

"You're in the band?" Annette asked, taking a proffered seat at the table.

"No, I guess I didn't introduce myself. I'm Trey Hartwell. I'm sort of doing a summer internship as sound engineer. We've got two albums in production right now, so that's keeping things a little busy." He opened the refrigerator. "Yeah, we've still got the salad. On pita all right? I'll find something to fill it out."

"That'll be fine," Annette said. "You strike me as being a little old to be doing an internship."

"I'm a senior at Marienthal College, outside Kansas City. I spent four years in the Army before I went there, so yeah, I guess I am a little old for it," he said as he started pulling stuff out of the refrigerator. "But, I don't mind. I'm learning stuff right and left from Blake and Jennifer, things they don't teach in college."

"It's got to be interesting," Annette said, wishing now that she had her notebook. Trey didn't seem to be a publicity guy, but he seemed to be an easy talker and very friendly. "You say, two albums? I'd heard about Whispering Pines, but what's the other one?"

"The second one is all recorded, it's just in editing and mixing," he said. "Are you familiar with the Myleigh Harris album, Harp Strings?"

"I've heard it," she replied. "Interesting album. You don't hear something like that every day."

Trey nodded. "That's true, and Harp Strings frankly strikes me as pretty conventional, compared to her new album, which I've been trying to work on around Whispering Pines. That's probably just as well; I get pretty wrapped up in it if I try to work on it full time. It's very easy to lose yourself in it."

"That's got to be interesting," Annette smiled. "Any chance I could hear a track or two?"

"Probably," Trey said. "We probably ought to run it by Jennifer and Blake first, just to be on the safe side. They're still working on how to release it."

"What's it like?" she asked, thinking that there were some limits to how far Trey thought he could go. There was no point in pushing him; he was just trying to make her feel comfortable, after all.

"Like nothing I ever heard before," he said. "It sounded pretty good when I recorded it, but now that I'm working on the mix, it's even more powerful. Celtic harp, of course, but recorded live in the Grand Canyon."

"You did the sound recording, right?"

"Spent three weeks doing it on a raft trip down the Canyon," he smiled, setting a plate with a pita sandwich down in front of her, followed by a plate of deviled eggs. "That was an experience in itself. I guess I didn't mention the name of the album. It's not set in stone yet, but the working title is Canyon Tours. All original harp music, inspired by the Canyon. The problem is that we recorded so much that's so good, it's hard to boil it all down to a single CD."

"I haven't met this Myleigh Harris," Annette said. "I guess I heard that the harp isn't her main interest, and that she teaches English literature . . . oh! Marienthal College? That's how you wound up recording the album, and wound up here?"

"That's the simple version," Trey smiled. "It's the truth, although the whole story is a little more complicated than that."

"She's here then? She plays in the band, right?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Like I said, she and Jennifer went over to see Wendy for a while. They ought to be back any time."

"Would you know if there might be a chance that I could interview her, too?" Two for the price of one, she thought. Myleigh Harris was an unknown as things went in Nashville, but it wasn't very often that you came across someone in this business who had a PhD in literature and recorded music like that.

"Wouldn't be surprised," Trey smiled. "Like I said, I'm just the sound technician on this one, so you'd have to ask her."

"What's she like?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"Myleigh is . . . like Myleigh," Trey smiled. "There's no else one quite like her. Even Jennifer seems pretty conventional by comparison. Maybe I'd better not say anything more and let you make up your own opinion." He looked up at the sound of a car driving in. "And, you'll get your chance, because here they are now."

In a moment, the door opened. Jenny Easton came in, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. She was carrying a baby, who seemed pretty well asleep, and was followed by a short, shapely young woman with shoulder-length dark hair, wearing a summer dress. "Hi, Annette," Jenny said. "Long time, no see. Sorry we weren't here to meet you, but we didn't expect you for a while."

"No problem," she replied. "I was running a little early. Trey here has been taking good care of me."

"Thanks, Trey," Jennifer said. "Did you two kill the turkey and spinach salad?"

"No, there's quite a bit left," Trey said. "Would you like me to build you one?"

"Don't bother," Jenny said. "I'll go put Jeremy down and make it myself. By the way Annette, this is Dr. Myleigh Harris. She really is a pretty decent person, even though we only keep her around to remind us of our manners."

"Annette Funston, of the Nashville Tennessean," Annette said. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Harris."

"I'm indeed pleased to meet you, Ms. Funston," Dr. Harris said. "I do so hope you found your trip up here pleasant and enjoyable. If there is anything that I may do for you, you need but ask."

"Would you like me to build you a sandwich, Myleigh?" Trey asked.

"Oh indeed no, my hero," she said, heading for the refrigerator. "Should I allow you to do it, I am quite sure you would assemble a veritable mountain of food, instead of the light lunch I desire. I believe I shall just have a small helping of that German tomato salad should there be any left."

"There was a few minutes ago," Trey smiled. "And Blake hasn't been through, so it still should be there."

God, does she talk like that all the time? Annette wondered. That'd take some getting used to! No wonder Trey said she was one of a kind. Well, considering a doctorate and the way she played the harp, she'd have to be pretty unique. "Dr. Harris," she said. "I listened to Harp Strings after it worked out that I was coming up here, and I want to compliment you on a really interesting piece of music. I didn't know things like that could be done with a harp."

"I have had professional harpists, few though they be, tell me the same thing," Dr. Harris smiled as she spooned out a small helping of salad. "I confess that I had the benefit of not knowing that they were impossible when I learned to do them. Then I had the benefit of the tutelage of Jennifer and Blake, and they have taken me considerably further from orthodoxy. In the past few weeks I have had the pleasure of teaching a bit of the art to Blake, and I am pleasantly surprised to see him enjoying a new challenge."

"Actually, I'm surprised it took him this long," Jenny said as she re-entered the room. "Usually Blake can give lessons on any stringed instrument five minutes after he picks it up for the first time. He'll never be as good at the harp as Myleigh, but the two can put together some interesting duets." She glanced at the small helping on Dr. Harris' plate, which now included an apple. "Eating heavy again today, Myleigh?"

"Very," the smaller woman said. "I fear the late session last night left me famished."

This was interesting, Annette thought. These people were pretty casual with each other, teasing each other. Even Trey was involved. It wasn't abnormal for people in the business to be casual with each other, but . . . this could be something else.

"Anyway, Annette," Jenny said, heading for the refrigerator. "I take it you had a good trip up here, except for the airline food?"

"I managed to snag a no-meals flight," Annette said, trying a light wisecrack herself. "That made it better."

"Yeah, airline meals have gotten pretty disgusting," Jenny said -- well, maybe I'd better think of her as Jennifer, Annette thought as the singer went on, "Of course, Myleigh is the one who's really disgusted with airlines, but I'll let her tell you that story some other time. We'll try to make this little refrigerator lunch up to you tonight. Blake has something special planned. It involves halibut steaks, but what else, you're never quite sure with Blake involved. I learned a long time ago to quit wondering what he was doing in the kitchen and just enjoy it."

"Trey said he thought I was to stay for dinner," Annette admitted.

"Yeah, you're welcome to hang around for the session tonight, too. Did you check into the motel?"

"No, I came right here."

"Well, you're welcome to stay here," Jennifer said. "You might not want to. The session doesn't start till after dinner, but we usually wrap it up by eleven or so. That gives Randy and Shovelhead a few hours to sleep before they have to get up for work."

"I really don't want to put you out," Annette said. "It's nice enough that you invited me up here at all."

"As long as you're here you might as well make it worth your while," Jennifer told her as she sat down at the table. "Look, I'm not telling you what to write or anything. You're welcome to hang around a few days if you want to. We're just going to be our normal selves, and we're not going to any real effort to put on a show for you. Feel free to ask anything you want of any of us. I'm not going to speak for Myleigh or Trey, but if you ask them something they don't want to answer, then they won't answer it. Blake and I plan to be as honest and open as we can. If that heads off into places where we don't want to go, well so be it, unless it gets really obnoxious. The intent of this whole thing is to show you what Blake and I are really like, in other words, Jennifer and Blake Walworth, not Jenny Easton."

"Brenda said she thought you had something like that in mind," Annette said, getting down to business and wishing she at least had her pad with her. "Isn't that rather unprecedented for you?"

"Very much so," Jennifer said, sounding rather professional, now. "You know the amount of hype rolling around this business. You have the opportunity to see us without the hype. That's our intent, nothing more, nothing less."

Good grief! She meant it! This kind of thing didn't come up very often . . . especially with a woman like Jenny Easton, who was known to be touchy about her privacy. Were there going to be any limits? "Trey said he and Myleigh" -- might as well try that on for size, instead of Dr. Harris -- "Were working on a new album, but that I'd have to ask you to hear a track or two."

"Fine with me, as long as Myleigh approves, and you don't have a tape recorder on," Jennifer replied. "It is her inspiration and her album. Blake and I have given her and Trey guidance and advice. Sometimes they listen, sometimes not. What they've got so far is extraordinary, but it's not yet finished." She turned to the two younger people. "Look, you two. Once we get done eating, why don't you go down and hack at it some more while Annette and Blake and I sit out on the front porch and shoot the bull a bit."

"I'd planned on it," Myleigh said. "I believe Trey may have a point with his arguments about the Whitmore Pictographs track."

"You know the rules," Jennifer smiled. "Check all guns, knives, and weapons of mass destruction at the door."

"You two fight a lot about it?" Annette asked.

"Not a fight like you're thinking," Jennifer smiled, and answered for them. "They don't raise their voices. Trey gets as formal as Myleigh, maybe even worse. Every now and then they exchange a few words, and then there's a lot of silence, and sometimes tears -- and not just from Myleigh. After an hour or two they've totally exchanged positions, and it starts all over again. It really is tough. They were able to sweat sixty hours of taping down to fifteen hours of very good music, any of which I'd be proud to publish, and now they've got it down to under two hours of really extraordinary music. But we all agree that anything more than a single CD is too long, and trying to break it up into separate releases destroys the unity."

"Perhaps, should you be able to stay, you might sit through the two hours that we might have the benefit of your opinions," Myleigh submitted. "At the moment, we should value an outside viewpoint."

"Maybe tomorrow," Jennifer said. "I really would like to have Annette hang around for two or three days if she can, if for no more reason than to make her believe that we're not putting on an act for her." She turned to Annette. "I mean that, and you're welcome to stay. You should have an interesting time, and you ought to get something of a story out of it."

"As soon as we get done eating," Annette said. "I need to go get some stuff from the car. And, I need to call the office and tell them I'm going to be longer than I thought."

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