Preludes, page 13
Marisol stood back and Anne took her place at the keyboard. “Nothing tricky, okay? I’m winging it here. Let’s start simple. Scarborough Fair?” Jamal and Stick nodded. “In D Dorian?”
She began to play. Just a simple melody with a traditional harmony supporting the tune. It was pretty, but nothing special. Until she reached the end of the first verse. “Now, à la Bach.” Immediately, she launched into a very different piece, the same tune, but arranged extemporaneously to reflect the counterpoint and figured bass style that so epitomised the genius Baroque composer. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jamal’s face break in half with a wide grin, and Stick picked up his sax. As Anne approached the end of her rendition, she looked up at the jazz musicians and nodded, and passed the piece to them as smoothly as if they had rehearsed it for weeks.
They took over now, improvising their own magic over the ages-old tune. Stick’s sax wove intricate chromaticisms and thematic arabesques while Jamal provided the walking bass that gave structure and solidity to his musical wanderings. It was silver lame spun over deep brown, golden threads ornamenting the structural warp of harmony. It was lovely.
Just as smoothly, they passed the melody back to Anne. “Mozart,” she called out, her fingers starting an Alberni bass line upon which to situate the tune. By the time they had completed a version in the style of Beethoven and one (pushing Anne’s improvisational limits to their utmost) of Gershwin, and the jazz musicians had added their own spin between Anne’s verses, the crowd was all but stunned. There was no talking, no eating, not a sound. It was the silence of awe.
And then, as if on cue, the place broke into thunderous applause. People leapt to their feet, and whistles and cheers sounded from the patrons. How many phones were there snapping pics of this? Anne shuddered to think of the next day’s Twitter feed.
It took five minutes to quieten everyone enough for the band to resume their set. She thanked them all for a terrific experience, and made sure she got their contact information. “You never know,” she explained, although already an idea was forming in her mind.
Eventually, she made her way back to her seat. “Oh my God, Annie, that was fabulous. Isn’t she amazing, Con? Don’t sit yet. We need selfies!” Out came the phone, and Connor took a few photos of the two friends before someone offered to include him in the pictures.
These would be all over social media by morning. Oh well. It was part of the job, wasn’t it? No such thing as bad publicity, just spell my name right.
It was a while later, after some dark cinnamon coffee (perfect for a jazz club), a plate of sweets, and more adulation from the crowds than she had ever imagined, that Anne and her friends finally left the place. It had not been the quiet evening she hoped for, but it had been a lot of fun nonetheless, and she was glad she went.
Chapter Fourteen
Serenade
The third and final do of the weekend was Sophia’s soireé the following evening. This was not for the orchestra members, but for the board of directors and some select donors. Fred would certainly be attending, as it was one of his extra-musical obligations to the orchestra. No doubt he would be his most charming self, flashing that winning smile everywhere and gaining a new following of adorers. Anne imagined Louisa would attend with him. She was prepared for it, and would be gracious.
William called that morning to make plans. He had left a message for her the previous night while she was at the jazz club.
Back in town. What a long flight. Talk tomorrow around 10?
Ten o’clock should be fine; it was late when she arrived home from the club, but not so late that she would sleep the morning away. And so, at 10 o’clock, when her phone rang, Anne was ready with a smile. She asked about his trip and then let him talk as she puttered about the kitchen, making coffee and toasting a bagel. With the phone on speaker, she could move around and get ready for the day while chatting.
Where had he been again? Barbados? The Dominican Republic? Right. The Caymans. He mentioned it a couple of times as he talked. He spoke very little about his current project, other than to say that it was going well, and dwelt mostly on the island itself with its gorgeous scenery and rich cultural heritage. He spoke with great animation, and it was like listening to a polished travelogue as she sipped at her morning brew. She asked some questions here and there and made the appropriate comments when suitable, but in all, he was happy to talk and she was happy to let him.
“Do I still have the pleasure of taking you to Sophia Croft’s do tonight?” he asked at last.
What a strange question. They had made their plans before his trip.
“Yes, of course. Did I say something to make you think otherwise?”
He laughed now. “No, not at all. I just turned on my computer as we were talking, and I see you have been quite the busy lady. You are all over Facebook. You seem to have made quite an impression last night. I hoped that somebody hadn’t come along to steal you away.”
“Oh Lord! Last night at the jazz club—what was I thinking? I haven’t dared to check online. It seemed fun at the time, but upon sober second thought, perhaps I should have just stayed in my chair.”
“Don’t be a silly goose. The people who were there are all gushing, and those who weren’t are jealous. If I’d known, I would have flown home early. Let me see… I’m scrolling through some pictures. Every single comment is positive, and you know how rare that is.”
Could a blush be heard over the phone? “That’s a relief.”
“So tonight? You’ll arrive on my arm? I could not be prouder. The invitation said eight o’clock, so I’ll come for you at about quarter to. It’s formal, and I’ll be in my dinner jacket. What colour are you wearing?”
She had thought a lot about this, and had two options she was playing with. It was time to make a decision. “I have a black dress that I often wear…”
“You looked very good in that light colour in the photos.”
“Oh. Thank you. I don’t have any ivory, but my other dress is green. I never wear it, but maybe I should. I need to wear more colours.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ll see you downstairs at quarter to eight.”
The dress was, thankfully, where she thought it was, safe in its garment bag from the last time she had it cleaned. It was a simple gown, a strapless underdress with elegant princess seams in a rich green between emerald and forest, not so bright as to be garish, not so dark as to be sombre. The skirt was full and fell to the floor, and it swirled about her ankles when she moved. She felt like a little girl twirling about. But what made the dress special was the lace overlay. It followed the line of the underdress exactly, but for the higher scoop neckline that was perfect for a simple and elegant necklace, and long lace sleeves. The lace itself was a modern, intricate pattern with a hint of sheen, that touch of look-at-me that turned the understated frock into something really eye-catching.
She rooted through her jewellery box for the right accessories. The dress was striking enough that it needed very little adornment. Emeralds would be too much. She selected a thin gold rope chain that her grandmother had given her for her graduation, and some plain gold studs for her ears. No bracelets, no rings. She would let the lace do all the shining. A light touch of gold on her eyelids with black liner and mascara and a layer of the rosy peach lipstick she saved for special occasions completed the look. As for her hair, her new style was perfect, the long layers framing her face with delicate tendrils.
William seemed to approve. He greeted her with appreciative eyes and a satisfied smirk. As he came around to her side of the car to open the door for her, Anne noticed the green flecks in his tie and pocket square. He had dressed to match her. The thought both pleased and alarmed her. What would people think? Hell, what did she think?
Sophia noticed at once. She said nothing, but Anne knew the meaning in those raised eyebrows. That look. She welcomed her guests into the elegant space and graced Anne with an air kiss on both sides. One must not disturb the lipstick, no matter how delighted you are with your company!
“Come in. About half the guests have arrived, so go and mingle and have fun. I’ll find you when I have a few moments.” She glanced over at William again, but his eyes were elsewhere, scanning the room with detached interest.
Kevin and Penny Walters stood near the bar and William gestured in their direction. There was no avoiding the orchestra’s CEO this evening, and they might as well get the inevitable conversation over with.
Walters was an efficient administrator, and while he had no great creativity of his own, he possessed the gift of discovering it and appreciating it in others. It was under his leadership that the orchestra had had such success in recent years, both with its community and youth outreach programs and with this new composer-in-residence program. But, to his credit, he was the first to admit that the ideas were those of his program developers. “I’m just the guy who puts the train on the track,” he would joke.
He was a handsome man—perhaps a little too handsome, judging by the way he always managed to find himself in any mirror around—and even in his late sixties, he cut a fine figure. He dressed to the very best advantage, and he had allowed himself to age gracefully in that way that some men manage, not attempting to look younger than his years but striving to make the very most of what nature had bestowed upon him.
His wife, Penny, was something of a different story. She was far closer to Anne’s age than to her husband’s, and she always looked like she was trying a little too hard. Her hair was that smidgeon too blonde, her makeup that bit too heavy. She was a very attractive woman, but would probably look better if she did not try to look ten years younger than she was. Tonight she had on a silver evening gown that was almost too tight and clung just too well to her well-toned curves. Diamond earrings dangled from her shell-like ears and more clusters of the clear gems sparkled at her throat, wrists, and fingers. It was just too much to be truly elegant, Anne decided, and then reprimanded herself for her catty thoughts.
She did not know Penny particularly well. They had met on previous occasions such as this and had exchanged a pleasant word or two, but Anne always said her good-byes with no particular desire to further the acquaintance, and she well suspected that Penny felt similarly.
Now, as Anne and William approached the couple, Anne saw Penny’s eyes first light upon William and then herself. She turned on her Bosses’ Wife’s smile and Anne could all but hear her form the appropriate sentences in her head.
“Anne Elliot! How lovely to see you!”
Yes, that was pretty much word for word what Anne would have imagined.
“And William. A pleasure to see you again, too.”
Of course, although William was new to the board, he surely would have met the CEO’s wife before now. This was a social event, not a business one, and everybody knew everybody else already. Penny brought out the usual safe topics. What lovely weather we’ve been having. How was your summer? Are you looking forward to the upcoming season?
The four chatted meaninglessly for several minutes, all superficial smiles and insincere compliments. Walters could turn on the charm as well as anybody, and prided himself on his smooth social manners as much as on his physical attributes, but it was all on the surface. He was a pleasant companion for ten minutes’ worth of conversation; there seemed to be little substance beneath his suave exterior.
Anne wondered what William thought about him. William’s smile was easy and his eyes seemed engaged, but he, too, was adept at these interactions. Surely he played the game as well as Walters, if not better. If the two had to work together, he definitely would wish to establish, if not a friendship, then a friendly relationship with the CEO.
As the men began to talk about matters relating to the orchestra, Penny fluttered her hand suggestively, which prompted Anne to ask about her bracelets. “Oh, these? Aren’t they lovely? I got them on a recent trip to the Islands. If you know where to look, one can get such excellent deals on jewels there. I don’t always want to be so flashy, but sometimes a woman just wants to sparkle.” Pause. “As I’m sure you know.”
On she prattled, and Anne nodded and agreed as the conversation required. Yes, she had heard wonderful things about St. Maarten. Yes, the upcoming book festival looked exciting. No, she hadn’t tried that new restaurant on the Danforth. The usual time-eating, expected chatter.
And then she felt it. Something in the air changed. It wasn’t a sound, or a scent, or anything tangible, but the very feel of the room that shimmered for a moment, as if adapting to a different reality.
He had arrived. She knew it without turning around. Frederico Valore had entered the room.
Beside her, Walters was facing towards the door and he clearly saw what Anne had felt in her soul. He gave a shake of his head and his eyebrows rose as his lids lowered. He turned and proclaimed in his bass voice, “Behold, our maestro!”
At once, the room quietened down. Choruses of Maestro and Signore Valore sounded from every direction, as well as the occasional familiar Fred. Anne shifted so she now faced the door, too. There he was, tall and elegant in his beautifully cut black dinner jacket and bow tie. He needed no embellishments. His face and figure and that fine suit were all he needed, and a breath caught in Anne’s throat. William was an attractive man, to be sure, but Fred always made her heart skip a beat.
She stepped backwards. Could she hide behind Penny? Disappear into some other room somewhere? After all, the last time she had seen him was the night of her nephew’s accident, when they had ended up in her bed. When he had vanished and left her that note telling her it was all a mistake. She had known he would be here tonight, but the sight of him was more than she was prepared for. That surge and anger and loss threatened to pull her off her feet, and she was uncertain which of the two was stronger.
But it was too late to disappear. Fred had clearly heard Walters’ boom and turned at once in their direction. He smiled at the CEO, a warm, open expression. Anne saw when his eyes settled on William for a moment, and then, a couple of steps away, on Penny, who stood interposed between them. And then he stopped. Just for a moment. His step stilled for that infinitesimal moment of time and his face lost all expression. In the blink of an eye, all was back to normal, and had she not been so aware of him, she might not have noticed. Certainly no one else seemed to think a thing was amiss. But he had seen her.
Still, his path was committed, and he continued to sail his path across the room. “Kevin,” he reached out to shake Walters’ hand. “Mrs. Walters,” he took the lady’s offered hand and pressed an old-fashioned kiss to the back of it. Then he greeted William with a polite, “Mr. Barnett,” and only then did he turn his eyes to Anne.
“Anne. A delight to see you again.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Ah. So that was the game he was playing. Old, familiar friends. Only friends. As long as she knew what to expect, she could handle it.
But he did not step back as she expected and remained close to her side.
The conversation was general for a moment. Walters made the predictable comments about the exciting upcoming season and the buzz in the music world about Fred’s new leadership of the orchestra. Anne straightened her back and plastered her smile on her face, and tried to look interested as Fred made the predictable replies.
“And your summer, Maestro? I hope it was very restful, since we will be more than busy once rehearsals begin.” He chuckled at his little joke.
“Alas, not restful at all, although I am more than ready to get back into the music.”
“Not restful?” Penny asked. “Was it exciting, at least?”
“Ah, that is a matter of opinion.” His voice was smooth, the velvety tones of a clarinet in its low register, full of burgundy and chocolate. “An international move is never a calm affair, and yes, I suppose it was interesting. I am delighted to be back in Toronto, and finding and setting up a home is exciting, I suppose. But it has been busy. I just returned from Rome a couple of days ago. I was there for much of August.”
“Oh!” Anne didn’t realise she had spoken until she heard her own voice.
“I had a few unexpected odds and ends to tie up there,” Fred explained. “The usual business matters—ending the lease on my old flat there, selling some unwanted items, taking leave of friends, you know the sort of thing. In fact,” he now stepped closer to Walters, although Anne could see his eyes settle for a moment on William, “one of my friends has decided to join me in Canada for a few weeks. He’s an English chap, a journalist, but he’s lived in Italy for several years. He’s just coming off a very rough time, and I thought the change would do him well. I’m grateful now that Jeremy suggested getting a place with two bedrooms, because Benjamin is staying in the second one for the time being.”
He turned his eyes to Anne. “Perhaps, while he is in town, you would like to meet him. When he isn’t chasing down the next big story, he writes poetry. Some of it is really rather good.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. It would be an honour.”
“Excellent! I have told him so much about you, he is quite eager to meet you. I might have gone on a bit about how there really is no one to compare to you.”
What was this? Such kind words, when he had all but washed his hands of her only a couple of months before, with not a word in the interim? Now Fred turned to the others. Their expressions asked all the questions they did not voice.
“Anne and I go back quite a way,” he explained to William and Penny. Kevin Walters surely knew this much already. “We were at university together; we were quite good friends.”
Well, that was one way of putting it. Anne strove to keep her smile from wavering.
At this, William’s stance stiffened, and he shifted closer to her; strangely, Penny Walters’ face went hard for a moment. Surely she wasn’t jealous of Fred. Was she? Had she envisaged some sort of… dalliance with the new conductor? Anne gave herself a mental shake. No, she must be imagining things. But then it occurred to her to wonder where Louisa was. The horn player and the conductor had seemed to be a couple; if Fred had just been in Rome for the last few weeks, surely they would want to be together now. Was she worried about not being welcomed at the board of directors’ party? It might not be cricket for the maestro to be carrying on with the principal horn, but far worse things had happened, and as long as the music didn’t suffer, no one would say a word.
