Preludes, page 24
In a moment, the kettle was on and Anne brought out some plates and the small tray of goodies she had prepared. She put the chocolates into a pretty glass bowl and added it to the tray, which she set out on the low coffee table. Then she prepared the mugs for their drinks (apple cider for Jasmine, chai tea for her), and waited for the water to boil. Soon, the women were comfortably nestled into their seats with steaming mugs and plates of goodies at hand, ready for a good chat.
“What happened last night? You’ve always been so private. It must be pretty serious if you want to talk about it.” Jasmine sniffed her cider but didn’t drink.
“I’ve been seeing this guy.” She stopped. Why was she so reluctant to speak about it? What was this sense of guilt that weighed so heavily on her shoulders? She felt somehow dirty, although she had done nothing wrong. Silence hung in the air, leaden and tight.
“And?” Jasmine’s voice was so low the word was more breath than sound.
Anne let out a long sigh and put her mug on the table. No hiding this time.
“I’ve been seeing this man, kind of. It started off as a casual thing, more like someone to do stuff with than anything else. And it sort of grew.” She told her friend about taking photographs of birds in the parks and attending concerts, and the small gestures of affection that had developed into something more serious.
Jasmine nodded at the right times and murmured little sounds that Anne took as encouragement.
“He even invited me to look over one of his property developments up north on Lake Simcoe.”
Anne saw Jasmine stiffen. What had she said?
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything is fine. You didn’t tell me his name. Is this the same person you were out and about with last summer?”
“William? Yes. That’s him.”
“Hmmm.” Jasmine took a long drink of her hot cider. “I saw all those photographs in the press. Barnett, right?”
“I’m surprised you recalled his name.”
Jaz stared into the plate of treats on the table. “It’s come up a few times about… about other matters. Connor’s business, you know.”
Anne remembered their conversation a while back. There seemed to be some bad business between her friend’s husband and William Barnett. She mumbled something and Jasmine forced a sad smile. “Don’t worry about it.” She picked up another biscuit and took a nibble. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
There was something in her eyes that bothered Anne, a wary look, not quite defiant, not quite scared. But it was enough to disrupt all her plans. Jasmine knew something about William, and all of a sudden, Anne felt she could no longer confide in her friend. There was too much else happening, a part of the story she didn’t know, but that would make it all but impossible for her to be completely candid.
“Nothing, I guess. It was such a busy night, so much happened… I guess I was just overwhelmed a bit. I went with William, as his date, that is. I think a lot of people have started to see us as a couple. That’s really it.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows rose in question, but she said nothing.
They talked a moment about the weather, Jasmine and Connor’s plans to visit his parents over Christmas, and about Anne’s new piece, Impressions. Anne had asked Kevin Walters about Jasmine attending the dress rehearsal, and she now made that invitation. The violinist was delighted and dived into her purse to check her teaching schedule for that day. It was clear of other appointments, which thrilled her even more.
They then talked about finding some music to play together in the new year, with Jasmine on violin and Anne on piano. They decided to start with the Bach sonatas for violin and harpsichord, and then try some Mozart before venturing further into the repertoire. Anne pulled up some scores on her tablet and they settled on the fourth sonata, and they lost themselves in the world of music for a while.
The time passed quickly, and soon Jasmine had to get ready to leave.
“Students?” Anne asked.
Her friend shook her head, sending her cascade of hair swaying. “No, not tonight. Somebody is writing an article and wants to interview Connor. Something about his investment days.” Jasmine looked a bit uncomfortable again. “Well, I need to go. I’ll find that music and start practising. It will give me something to do at the in-laws when Con’s mother starts getting on my nerves! I’ll call when we’re back in town, and we can make a music date.”
They hugged goodbye and exchanged all the appropriate wishes for the season, and Jasmine disappeared down the hallway to the elevators.
And Anne still didn’t quite know how to sort out her feelings about William.
Christmas was now just days away. Anne had spent a great deal of time searching for the perfect gifts for her family and friends, but the biggest present she herself expected to get was some solitude. A few days with no calls, no command performances, no last minute invitations would be welcome.
William had left a message the day after Anne’s almost-confession to Jasmine, wishing he could see her but full of regretful apologies for an unexpected absence from town.
Anne dear,
So dreadfully sorry about this. I had been hoping for months to spend the holiday season in your company, but some desperate business matters have arisen that I have to attend to. I cannot imagine worse timing, but there it is. I will make it up to you. I hope you like tanzanite.
Thinking of you every minute,
William
Anne’s fingers hovered over her phone, itching to type in a short message telling him not to bother, but she could not type the words. No matter her discomfort with his actions, he deserved to be told goodbye in person and not by text.
Likewise, Sophia and Jeremy were away for a few days at their cottage, and Marie and Charles were busy with Musgrove family events. They had invited Anne to spend Christmas itself with them and her own parents, but she anticipated spending much of the intervening time alone.
This rather suited her. She enjoyed her family and friends’ society a great deal, but she was also happy in her own company. She had a large pile of books waiting to be read, another pile of movies to watch, and a kitchen full of treats and ingredients to cook and bake. She was absolutely content.
She also decided to spend the time completing her piece for Ben and Louisa’s wedding.
That couple, she heard from Ben through a quick email, were flying to England to meet his family. Afterwards, he wrote, Louisa would have to return to Toronto for the first orchestra rehearsals of the new year, but Ben himself would be away for another two or three weeks, doing some work on a project he was working on.
She felt a flash of regretful envy. Clearly, distance and temporary separations didn’t bother them at all. Heck, Ben had even suggested that if they were forced to be separated for a year before they got work and immigration issues ironed out, it would be alright.
If only Fred had been of that mind. But there was no point lamenting this now. Spilt milk and all that, she reminded herself.
What Fred was doing over the break, she had no idea. She hadn’t asked and he hadn’t volunteered the information. He had family in town, his parents and a brother. Presumably he was doing the big Italian Christmas thing with them. She had spent a couple of years in their company, and while it was a very different celebration to the restrained affair her family would do, she had enjoyed those parties of so long ago. She recalled lavish meals and far too many sweets and grand gestures of welcome. The exuberance was foreign to her, as much a product of their personalities as their traditions, but she had loved the warmth and, quite frankly, the fun of the season with them.
But that was all in the past. She would not be spending Christmas with Fred or the Valores this year.
She closed the door on those old memories and settled herself into her chair with her tablet in hand to work on the new composition.
Anne was to spend New Year’s Eve at her sister’s house, babysitting the boys while Marie and Charles went to a party hosted by a friend in the neighbourhood. She had expected nothing else.
“You will come.” It was a statement, not a question. Marie presented her with this information at her house on Christmas day, as Anne set about washing a sink load of dishes after dinner.
“Are you busy, Anne?” Charles came up beside her to take the large crystal serving bowl from her hands. “Pity this can’t go in the dishwasher. Do you have some lavish society affair to attend?”
She gave him a twisted half-smile. “No, it’s alright, Charles. I don’t have other plans. I’m happy to spend some time with the boys.”
“Well, of course you are.” Marie’s voice sounded from the other end of the kitchen where she was directing her mother-in-law as to the best way to put away the leftovers. “What else would you be doing? It’s not like you have anyone else to go to.”
Anne bit her lips but stayed silent. Charles took up her case instead. “Now Marie, that’s not true. She’s got her good friend Sophie—”
“Sophia,” Anne corrected, but no one heard her.
“—and she’s been seeing that businessman, haven’t you, Anne? Bill someone? Will…?
“William. William Barnett. But—”
“Right. And there’s her old friend from school she’s met with again.”
“Please, Charles. Anne has better things to do than associate with poor violin teachers. They’re really a dime a dozen. And Anne’s famous.”
“Jasmine is my friend,” Anne began, but Marie had started talking again, and clearly hadn’t heard a word.
“So you’ll come on New Year’s Eve. We’re going to the Grajos, just on the other side of the park, in the big house with the white pillars. They do such a nice party every year. I even dress up.”
Brenda Musgrove’s voice now sounded from the table where she sat with her plastic tubs, sorting leftovers into suitable containers. “Anne, dear, you looked lovely in the photographs from the orchestra gala. Marie, didn’t Anne look lovely? I was so proud to show the pictures to my friends. ‘That’s Anne Elliot,’ I told them. ‘She’s a famous composer. And she’s so pretty too.’ You had on such a beautiful dress.”
“What about my dress? It’s every bit as beautiful as Anne’s, I’m sure.”
“Of course it is, Marie dear. You will be the loveliest woman at the party. My Charlie will be the envy of all the other men with you on his arm.”
“Well. Yes. Let’s put the sauce in this container. No, the glass one, so the plastic doesn’t absorb the smell. No, the other one.”
Anne rolled her eyes and went on washing the serving dishes.
By New Year’s Eve, her piece for Ben and Louisa’s wedding was all but complete. As planned, she spent the night at Marie’s house with her nephews, for Charles had insisted she sleep over in the spare room. She knew this meant she would be expected to wake up early to make some sort of treat for breakfast, but she didn’t mind. It would be nice to bake for more than just herself. She planned on making cinnamon buns, which she would start as soon as the boys were in bed. The dough could then rise in the fridge overnight and be baked hot and fresh in the morning.
Marie and Charles left for their friends’ party just after eight, Charles in a suit and Marie in a really sweet red dress that did look lovely on her. Anne glanced down at her worn-in jeans and tired fleece sweater with a grimace. Oh well. Jake and Dylan loved her, no matter what she wore.
They read stories and built towns from wooden blocks for a while before preparing their own little celebration. There would be ice cream and party hats, and even some streamers that Anne had brought along. When the clock struck nine, they brought in the New Year (albeit a bit early) and then went through the normal bedtime ritual. Anne was happy to let the boys drag it out for a bit. Favourite Aunts had some leeway in these things after all.
Now the house was quiet. Anne found her tote bag and pulled out her tablet, then went to find a comfortable armchair in the living room. She curled up with a throw blanket about her shoulders, got out the stylus, and set to work on the last touches of her music for Ben and Louisa’s wedding.
It was not a long piece, only about five minutes or so, and it was scored for just two instruments instead of a full choir or orchestra. She was pleased with her progress on the work, and hoped to finish it tonight, before her sister returned home from the party. The melodic material had come to her almost at once, and before Ben had left for England, she had begged a peek at some of his poetry for a bit more inspiration.
Although she did not plan to set the verse to music, she did allow it to shape her thoughts and her notes until the piece for piano and cello could almost be sung as a song. Perhaps she would rework it one day for tenor and orchestra, but for now, it would live in its current form. As the clock on her phone app chimed midnight, ringing in the new year, she played through the composition one more time and closed the music notation program on her tablet. She let a smile creep over her face as she contemplated her little creation.
It was not the most challenging music she had written, but it was deeply personal to her, not because of her friendship with the groom, but because of its performance. Despite Fred’s coolness to her since the gala, he would be the one performing it with her. It would be his long, capable fingers coaxing melody from wrapped wire and horsehair, teasing magic from a carved block of wood. Knowing his skill, both technical and musical, she had allowed herself some fun with interweaving harmony and melody, creating an intricate web where one line bled into another until the line between the parts became blurred.
When she first began the composition, she had looked forward to the rehearsals. They would need some time, she and Fred, to negotiate the intricacies of the lines so the melody could soar. Hopefully, by the time they met to go over the piece, Fred would have lost the coolness that marked their last parting. Perhaps, if she dared explain herself, he might listen with an open mind and an open heart.
The clock on the VCR in the corner flashed 12:32. Marie and Charles would still be out for another half hour or so, perhaps longer if the past was any predictor of the present. Anne put away her tablet, checked on Dylan and Jake one last time, and then took herself to the guest room to go to bed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Duet
The first rehearsal for Ben’s wedding piece was at Fred’s place one early afternoon in the middle of January, the day after the premier of Impressions. The concert had been terrific and Anne had taken her bow, but then had slipped back into her seat. She had not spoken with Fred afterwards.
It was strange being in Fred’s home without their ‘chaperon,’ but it was the logical place to practise. Ben was still out of the country, working on whatever his new investigative project was, and Fred had more room in his apartment than Anne did. Furthermore, Fred’s piano was nicer than her own, and she hoped that he would be comfortable enough in his own space that he might open up a bit.
She had printed out the music, but had also emailed a PDF of the score to Fred. He had it set up on his tablet when she arrived, all propped up on his music stand. Anne, likewise, had her tablet with the music to set on the piano. Some musicians, she knew, preferred to read all their music this way, and had special large tablets and stylus pens to make notes on the electronic devices, never going near a sheet of paper. She was happy with music in whichever form it came, but knew that for the wedding they would be better using paper so it didn’t glow in unwanted places on photographs.
They exchanged the basics of polite conversation, all form and no content.
“Nice Christmas?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Parents good?”
“They’re well. Charles and Marie? The kids?”
“All good.”
Then came the obligatory chatter about the previous night’s concert and the premier of Impressions.
“Your new piece was a great success. I heard so many favourable comments. The orchestra did very well.”
“You brought out the best in them.”
“I didn’t see you at intermission.”
“Sophia and Jeremy insisted on buying me a drink.” Pause. “The Brahms was excellent.”
“Thanks.” Silence. Then, “The third is an underrated symphony.”
When they ran out awkward nothings to say, they settled into the rehearsal. Maybe afterwards they could talk a bit.
The first step was to play through the piece, to get a sense of how it sounded and to identify areas that needed attention. As expected, they stopped here and there to clear up some confusion, and once - to Anne’s chagrin - to fix a mistake in the score. “It should be a B-flat, not an A-flat. Sorry!” There would be a few notes to learn and more rehearsal in order, but it was a good start.
There was no time to talk, however. Fred had a meeting with the board that had just come up, and he needed to leave early. His apology seemed genuine, though. Perhaps he had wanted to talk as well. Maybe next time.
The second time they met was at Anne’s place. Ben had just arrived back in Toronto from his travels and was once more taking up temporary residence in Fred’s spare room. It seemed odd to Anne that Ben should hear the piece of music she had written for him before it was ready for performance, although she could not say why. Perhaps it was pure superstition transposed. Just as the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride on their wedding day until the ceremony, so he was not supposed to hear the music that was composed entirely in his and Louisa’s honour. He knew it existed, of course, but the exact piece itself was to be a surprise.
When she voiced her feelings to Fred, he concurred at once. “Yes, of course. I agree. Your place then?”
They arranged for Thursday night. The orchestra was performing, but they had a guest conductor for this program and Fred was not engaged in any tours of his own at the moment. She thought for a minute about inviting him for a light dinner before rehearsing, but changed her mind. She didn’t want to come over as pushy. Or needy. After dinner would do fine. And then, perhaps, coffee and cake afterwards. She had something in her kitchen in anticipation of a good, soul-clearing conversation.
