Because of a deathbed promise to his father, Elijah Peck reluctantly left his friends and successful career in Bridgeport to return to Willowby, Connecticut, the small town of his upbringing, in order to run the antique shop that had been in his family for generations. Now, in just the span of two years, Eli has morphed into a social recluse, isolated in what he believes is a stuffy, suffocating nowheresville. With no thriving gay community at his disposal, and with his entire existence wrapped around the store he never really wanted, Eli's devoted little time to his personal needs. As a result, instead of acting like a man in his mid-thirties, living out his own dreams, maybe even finding love with the right guy, he often feels like just another item in his shop -- a dusty, moldy antique that has seen better days.<br><br>But all that starts to change when a stranger moves to Willowby.<br><br>One night outside his shop, Eli has a chance encounter with Neville "Gray" Grayson, a wickedly handsome musician who's purposely left the bustle of New York City in favor of quiet country living. Eli is instantly drawn to Gray, and the flirtatious jazzman stirs dormant feelings inside Eli, reinvigorating his hopes for a brighter future. Not only does Gray make Eli feel attractive for the first time in years, but also makes him appreciate small-town life in a way he never has before. And Eli can't help but wonder if Gray's presence also offers the promise of finding much-needed companionship, sexual fulfillment, and perhaps even love ...

When the Jazzman Sings

“And here is where I’ll be spending much of my time,” he said, flipping on a light switch. “Welcome to my studio.”


During my days at St. Matthew’s, this area had been a reading and study corner, as well as the place where students would display their science projects and various artwork. Now, instead of the far wall being used to exhibit solar system mobiles, blotchy finger paintings, or horribly misshapen clay or paper-maché sculptures, I counted seven guitars, both acoustic and electric, along with two five-string basses on stands. Additional stands supported saxophones—an alto, tenor, and a baritone, if I correctly identified them—while a chest-high shelf held other woodwinds—a clarinet, an oboe, what looked like an old-fashioned recorder, a piccolo, and a lone harmonica. Boxes of extra reeds, guitar picks, several pairs of headphones, some microphones, and neatly coiled cables filled the remainder of the shelf.


Chapter 18