Chapter 27

The Saturday morning farmer’s market in Nashville was in full swing, sunshine warming the late fall day just enough to draw a substantial crowd. Vendors had arranged their stalls in the familiar U-shape around the central plaza, offering everything from organic vegetables to artisanal cheeses, handcrafted jewelry to fresh-cut flowers. The air carried mingled scents of coffee, baked goods, and the earthy aroma of fresh produce.

Jacob pulled his truck into the parking lot, cutting the engine and listened with a smile to Emma, Sophie and their best friend Amy Williams’ excited chattering. The thirteen-year-old twins had asked if they and their friend Amy could join him when they heard him mention he would be busking at the market today. Their mother was away filming on location in New Mexico. She would have normally accompanied them on a Saturday outing, but her absence had created this opportunity for him to spend quality time with the girls.

“You guys remember the backup parts we practiced?” Jacob asked, reaching behind the seat for his guitar case.

“We’ve been practicing all week!” Emma declared, already unbuckling her seatbelt.

Sophie nodded vigorously. “Mom’s going to be so jealous when we tell her.”

The girls jumped out of the truck with the boundless energy of youth, while Jacob followed at a more measured pace, guitar case in one hand and a small folding stool tucked under his arm. The scars that marked the left side of his face caught the morning sunlight as he emerged from the truck’s shadow.

For Emma and Sophie, Jacob’s presence in their lives represented something precious—an adult who saw them as complete individuals rather than extensions or reflections of their famous mother. His interest in their thoughts, opinions and creative expressions was genuine rather than put on. Most importantly, he offered them a perspective on his world, one that valued depth over surface, substance over appearance, observation without judgment.

People had known them primarily as “Eliza Montgomery’s daughters” for years—their existence defined in relation to their famous mother rather than through their own emerging personalities and talents. School events became photo opportunities for determined paparazzi. Friendships were complicated by parental motives trying for access to celebrity circles. Their faces constantly scrutinized for signs of their mother’s famous beauty.

What few saw was how this public attention affected them. At thirteen, they had to navigate the challenging terrain of adolescence while simultaneously dealing with their mother’s fame and its spillover effects on their own developing identities. Early on, Jacob recognized that and did what he could to provide a bit of normality to their lives.

“Can we help carry anything?” Amy asked, falling into step beside him.

“I got it,” Jacob replied. “We’ll set up across from the flower ladies’ booths.”

“There’s the spot!” Emma pointed to an open space across from a colorful display of fall chrysanthemums and late-blooming dahlias. One of the flower vendors, a woman with silver-streaked hair twisted into a bun, waved at Jacob with recognition.

“Morning, Jacob! Brought your backup singers today, I see,” she called over, her smile widening at the sight of the twins.

“Free talent, Mary,” he called back with a smile.

He set up quickly, the girls helping while they excitedly chattered about being there, trying to calm their nerves about singing backup for songs they’d heard over many evenings at the farmhouse. He unfolded his wooden stool, settling it carefully on the cobblestones, and opened his guitar case at his feet–both to store it safely and to collect whatever tips might come their way.

“Remember,” Jacob said softly to the girls as he tuned his guitar, “we’re not just performing. We’re sharing something we love with people who might enjoy it too.”

This simple re-framing seemed to ease some tension from their shoulders. They took a deep breath, positioning themselves a step behind Jacob, as he’d shown them during practice.

He opened with the girls’ favorite—the Sweetheart Song, a playful ballad about the problems of dating and teenage boys. It had an infectious energy reminiscent of popular folk-rock tunes, with its quick tempo and call-and-response structure. When Jacob reached the chorus, Emma, Sophie and Amy joyously danced behind him, their fingers pointed skyward, singing the refrain “No, no, no!” in perfect time with the music.

The quality of Amy’s voice surprised him. She had a clarity and purity of tone with perfect pitch control—a brightness that carried well.

The audience grew, people clapping with the beat, some swaying, others tapping their feet.

The girls’ voices, sweet and clear, complemented Jacob’s deeper, slightly raspy tone perfectly. Their faces glowed with the joy of creation and connection; the twins temporarily free from the weight of being recognized as the famous actress’s daughters. Here, they were simply happy young girls, bringing delight to a Saturday morning crowd.

Market vendors glanced over between customers, smiling at the impromptu concert. A woman in a wide-brimmed hat dropped a twenty-dollar bill in the guitar case, while a young couple with a toddler on shoulders swayed in rhythm to the music. Mary, the flower vendor, hummed along, arranging bouquets to the beat.

Between sets, as they shared a basket of chocolate dipped strawberries and fresh croissants purchased from the bakery two stores down, Jacob noticed the girls watching the crowd of people pass.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Sophie replied. “Just people-watching.”

Jacob nodded, understanding the activity well. “What do you see when you watch them?”

They exchanged glances, uncertain how to answer. “Just ... people shopping,” Emma offered with a shrug.

“Look at that woman by the flower stall,” Jacob suggested quietly. “The one in the blue dress looking at the bouquets. What do you notice about her?”

The girls turned their attention to where he indicated—a thirty something woman in a blue sun dress examining bouquets with careful consideration, her movements deliberate and precise.

“She’s being really picky about the flowers,” Sophie observed.

“Why might that be?” Jacob prompted.

Amy tilted her head slightly. “Maybe they’re for something special? Like an anniversary or something?”

“Look at her left hand,” Jacob suggested.

The girls focused more intently. “No wedding ring,” Emma noted after a moment.

“But there’s a tan line where one used to be,” Amy added with growing interest.

Jacob nodded encouragingly. “What else do you notice about her appearance?”

The twins studied the woman more carefully now, genuinely engaged in this exercise in observation.

“Her dress is really nice, but her shoes are kind of worn. Also, she looks sad,” Sophie said.

“And her hair is perfectly done, but her hands look rough,” Emma contributed. “Like she works with them a lot.”