Preludes, page 27
“Look, Anne, I was thinking…” He rose from his chair walked her to the front where they had left their winter coats. Was he going to break it off? Would he save her the anxiety? But no, by his eager body language, this wasn’t going to happen.
“There’s a small do on Friday night, a last-minute thing at the Carterets. From the orchestra’s board. You know them, right?” She nodded. “It’s just a little cocktail party. Come with me.”
She sighed as they walked out onto the street. “I’m not sure. Perhaps…”
But he brushed her words aside once more. “We’ve found a new potential donor who has been asking to meet you, and Kevin Walters was going to call with an invitation. I told him I’d bring you with me. It’s always good to rub elbows with these people. Good for the organisation, good for you. I know your term with the orchestra is for another two years, but afterwards, who knows what sorts of contacts you’ll make through some of these lovely folk. They have fingers everywhere. You’ll come? Good. Semiformal, I think. Let me pick you up at eight. Will that do?”
She opened her mouth to speak her concerns, but as she was about to say No, a taxi drew up and William shuffled her in, then gave the driver her address and money for the fare. And just like that, the evening was over, with another date planned, before she could summon the strength to tell him she didn’t want to go out with him anymore. Somewhere, somehow, she had neglected to order a backbone. Perhaps next Christmas.
Between her teaching obligations and some music she was working on for a short television documentary, Anne kept busy over the following two days. Soon enough it was Friday evening, the night of the Carterets’ cocktail party.
William was correct. As distasteful as it seemed, being on good and sociable terms with well-provisioned and well-connected people was part of the business she was in. The documentary for which she was writing the opening theme, after all, had come her way through another board member who knew someone who knew the director. She suspected that her name had helped the director procure some coveted government arts funding for the project, which in turn would pay her bills for a month or two. And while not part of her contract, her appearance was requested by the boss, and it would not do her career any favours to refuse.
And so she took her usual pains to look as presentable as possible. Her green lace dress, gold and topaz jewellery, and too much time with a hair dryer and curling iron, all combined to create a more than acceptable result. She put her shoes into a small bag, stepped into her winter boots, and dug her nice coat out from the corner of the closet. It was not as warm as her everyday coat, but she would be in and out of William’s warm car, and appearances were more important than comfort tonight.
He, as always, was dressed impeccably. Did he have a whole closet full of dinner jackets? Or a local dry cleaner to ensure his suit was perfectly pressed every time he needed it? No matter. Whatever she thought of her future with or without him, it was no shame to be seen in his company.
The expected crowd was there. Being purely social, there was no pressure for everybody to attend, and only about a dozen couples milled about the spacious great room of the house. A grand piano stood in the corner, black and polished, but no music sat open on the stand. Was it an instrument that somebody played often? Or was it more of an ornament, a symbol of class and wealth? Anne knew the Carterets a bit. Eleanor, who sat on the board, was always polite and friendly, but carried about her the air of an arriviste. Could it be the latter? Was the piano merely for show? Then a dreadful thought occurred to her: Did they expect Anne to provide some music for them? No, surely not. She really must get out of the mindset that everybody wanted something from her. She was spending too much time with her sister.
Eleanor greeted them warmly and invited them over to the bar to choose their drinks. Anne scanned the room, looking to see who was present. Kevin and Penny Walters were among the guests. Being professional staff rather than a volunteer on the board, Kevin didn’t really fit with this well-heeled crew, but if this possible donor was on the guest list, it made sense for him to be there, just as he had requested Anne’s attendance. This was all part of hobnobbing with donors and board members alike, and being on good terms with one and all could only make his administrative tasks easier. Still, Anne wondered if his presence tonight was due to social or political reasons.
No time to consider this now. The Walters had seen them and were walking over, drinks in hands.
“William, Anne,” Kevin reached out a large red hand. He might just be the hired manager, but he looked every bit as comfortable in these surroundings as did William. “Good to see both of you. William, you must tell me about your latest adventures. We’re thinking that a spot in the sun might be in the budget after all.”
“Hello, Anne.” Penny’s voice was always cool, but it was her nature and no personal slight. She leaned forward a bit to offer the traditional double cheek kiss where one missed one’s target on purpose, but made the appropriate motions. Anybody who had lived in Montreal knew it intimately. Mwah, mwah. Left side, right side, hand gently on the upper arm, cheek not quite brushing cheek, kissing sounds in the air. Then it was over.
Anne took a deep breath…
And stopped.
She knew that scent.
“That’s a lovely perfume,” she offered, though her heart had started racing.
Penny smiled and named something Anne had never heard of and most likely could never afford. But it didn’t matter. She had smelled that before, and she knew where.
Back before Christmas, at the orchestra’s year-end gala, when William had been late to their table before dessert. She had smelled it then. On him.
Her eyes widened, and she fought to maintain her calm.
Suddenly, a pile of little pieces that she had never thought much about fell into place. William at Sophia’s soiree in September, chatting with Penny. William at the reception after the first concert of the season, chatting with Penny. William at the fundraiser gala, chatting with Penny, dancing with Penny… What else had he been doing with Penny? There was no point at all letting the other woman know that Anne had guessed her and William’s secret, but her own course was now quite firmly set. This would be her very last outing with William under any guise.
She disguised her shock by asking more about the perfume and then steering the conversation elsewhere—anywhere—until the little foursome broke up. All the while, her heart hammered in her chest and she felt her hands dampen.
Don’t wipe them on your dress. Not on the dress. She excused herself to get another drink—just ginger ale this time—and a serviette with which to mop up the sweat on her palms. One of the other board members saw her and sidled over to ask about some music and generally chat, and she had never been so grateful in her life to be an object of curiosity. It meant she needn’t spend more time than necessary with William.
And Penny.
Oh God.
Perhaps she could make some excuse about not feeling well. She could take a taxi home. William could stay and do… whatever it was he thought he was doing.
What was he doing? Why go to all this trouble to woo her, drag her around town, kiss her like he had at the gala, if he was involved with Penny? Could she be wrong? Perhaps they had just been chatting outside the main hall that night like old friends do. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Surely she was over-reacting.
But how would that perfume have clung so strongly to him if he had not clung to Penny? Her head began to swim. Maybe claiming to be ill wouldn’t be so much of a lie after all. Yes. She would find Eleanor and have her pass a message to William. She could call a taxi or Uber from the foyer where her coat was. She swivelled about, looking for her hostess.
“Anne, there you are.” William’s voice sliced through her conviction. She had to find her spine and just face him, tell him she needed to go. But before she could draw breath, he had his arm around her shoulders, a possessive gesture if ever there was one. She tried to shift, but he pulled her closer.
“I was telling Walters and Rob over there,” his voice a little louder than it ought to be, “just how much I missed you when I was away in Turks.” He emphasised the last word just a bit. What was going on? Was he trying to deflect something? Convince Kevin that he had been in the islands the whole time? Hadn’t he been? Where was he then? Had his story of coming home with hardly any notice been a lie? And where had Penny been?
But there was no time to think. William was still talking. Performing, more like, the room his audience. “I missed you a lot, Annie. More than you know.” He moved in front of her now and in a single, practised motion, pulled her towards him with one arm while pressing a long kiss to her lips. Then, as she stood in shock, trying to find her feet beneath her, he straightened up and smirked to the room as if to say, Yes, I have conquered.
And at that very moment, Jeremy and Sophia entered the great room. Sophia’s eyes met Anne’s, and she grinned. Oh God. This would be a most uncomfortable discussion!
The great reckoning came far too early the next morning. Anne had claimed a sudden headache after William’s display, which had not been entirely fictitious, and she made her apologies at once and called a taxi.
Both William and Sophia had offered to drive her home, but she refused. She really was not up to any sort of company. Instead, she peered out of the taxi window through half-closed eyes all the way to her building, as the car slipped along icy streets decorated with the reflected glare of too-bright lights. At last she unlocked her apartment door and staggered inside before collapsing on her bed, the beautiful green lace dress a crumpled heap on the floor.
Now her night of fitful sleep was shattered by the din of her phone. How much had she had to drink last night? It really had not been a lot, but her head throbbed in earnest, a reprimand after the semi-feigned headache she had claimed.
Would that phone not stop its relentless shriek? She groped on her bedside table and made contact with the cool slab of technology. The racket ceased, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from looking at the name on the screen.
Sophia.
She would have to call her back at some point. There was no avoiding this discussion.
The phone rang again. With a groan and clenched eyes, she answered.
“Annie, are you alright? What happened last night?”
“Grmsxl.”
“Oh. I see I’ve called at a bad time. Look, sweetie, let’s not get into it now. But on Monday, you’ve got to tell me. There’s a story in there and I have to hear it. Call me if you need me. And Annie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Go make yourself some coffee. Jeremy sends love.”
The phone went silent.
She was awake now. Sophia’s suggestion made as much sense as anything, and so she stumbled to the kitchen to put on the kettle. No time for brewed coffee today. Instant would have to do. She could brew a pot later if she needed it. Which, she was certain, she would.
She ignored her email and phone all the rest of the day, taking a bracing walk along the ice-crested lake and then devoting herself to her documentary score instead. The following day, she had agreed to spend with Marie’s family and there would be no chance to work. This time it was Brenda Musgrove’s birthday, and she had sent a special request that Anne join them in a day of celebration. She had planned an outing to the aquarium with the boys, and then had ordered in a meal of pizza and ice cream. Anne suspected this celebration was much more for Jake and Dylan than for Brenda, but such was the woman’s devotion to her grandchildren that she surely enjoyed it as much as they did. Their pleasure was her pleasure, no matter how much Marie might complain.
And then it was Monday. There were no more excuses, no more ploys to avoid contact with the rest of the world.
She set aside the three unheard phone messages from William and two emails from Jasmine for later, and got ready to meet Sophia instead. Today’s trip was to a high-end fabric outlet, where Sophia was hoping to select new coverings for her dining room chairs. “The current upholstery is looking so tired, Annie. It’s got to be ten years old. You have an artist’s eye. Help me find something perfect.”
Anne had rolled her eyes. Sophia’s taste was far more sophisticated than anything Anne could summon up, but she accepted the ruse with good grace. And now she stood in the small warehouse in a light industrial part of town near the 401 highway, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling stacks of rolls of the most luxurious and expensive fabric she had ever seen.
Sophia had not mentioned a word about the cocktail party all morning. It was coming, Anne knew, but her friend was biding her time. “What about this one?” Sophia fingered the edge of a rich golden brocade. “Too much? Perhaps something a bit less flashy. Dark red? We can paint the walls…”
“No, the gold is good. It’s only for the seat cushions, and most of the time no one will see them. They’ll just be a splash of glitz when people pull out their chairs to sit down.”
Sophia grinned. “I knew I brought you for a reason, Anne. Let me get a small swatch and pin it to one of the chairs for a few days. What colour tablecloth would match, do you think?”
Whew. Was this going to be the worst of the interrogation? Perhaps Sophia would leave her in peace for another day or twelve.
“I think it would match something in apricot or light pear. The china has a gold rim, so that would go. And what, exactly, is going on between you and William Barnett, after all? After that big newsflash about Fred, now you’re all but married to one of the members of the board! Anne, why didn’t you say anything?”
All but married? Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. So much for the reprieve.
“Not now, Annie. Collect your thoughts. I’ll just buy this swatch and then it’s coffee time. Or would you prefer a glass of wine somewhere? I need this story.”
They ended up at a small place on Avenue Road, a few minutes’ drive away. It was a bar with excellent food… or was it a restaurant with a first rate drinks list? Regardless, in the evening, this eatery would be bustling, but now in the middle of the afternoon, it was all but empty and the perfect place for an interrogation.
Sophia leaned forwards over her pinot grigio and the plates of edamame beans and bruschetta that filled the table between them. “So, no more avoiding the topic, Anne. Talk.”
“William…”
Sophia’s head bounced up and down, her pendant silver earrings swaying with the motion.
“He is very charming…” Anne began.
“Oh, he is. He can be a bit too suave, but it’s his manner. I think that beneath that too-perfect exterior, he’s a passionate man.”
Passionate. For Penny, perhaps. The thought of him preferring another woman to her was not troublesome. She had never been so enamoured of him that she felt his loss. But to be used as a decoy, that was painful. Because it was exceedingly clear to her that William’s advances had only been to deflect attention from his affair with the CEO’s wife.
“You’re silent, Anne.” The repressed smile on Sophia’s face suggested she quite misunderstood Anne’s reticence. “I understand if you’d rather keep the details quiet for now. But you really must know, William was quite raving about you after you left. He could talk about nothing else. He’s quite besotted with you. Can I use that word? It seems so old fashioned, but it suits him somehow. He didn’t say as much, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are wedding bells in your future.”
“Oh, Soph, no…”
“You don’t have to be coy, Anne. I won’t say anything to anybody else, but they probably all suspect the same thing. Has he said anything to you?”
“You don’t understand…”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll let him keep his plans secret. I’m sure he’s got some grande geste planned for when he asks you. He’s a real catch. Rich, handsome, sophisticated, an art lover… you’ll be jetting all over the world, and in first class, too.”
“It’s not like that…”
Anne wanted to disappear into her chair. Is this what everyone thought? Oh God. Her face must have fallen, because Sophia’s expression changed completely.
“Is everything alright, Annie? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I know you’re very private about these things. Let’s talk about something else.” She reached down to her purse and brought out three more swatches of fabric that she had just bought. “For this one,” she gestured to a delicate moss green, “I was thinking of the kitchen. Wouldn’t it be nice to recover the kitchen chairs with this? It looks pretty resilient too, and I might do the balcony chairs at the same time. But then this apricot is also a lovely colour, and so fresh…”
And Anne never did explain to her friend that marrying William was the last thing in the world she wanted to do.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sotto Voce
Jasmine came again on the next Wednesday morning, her violin case slung diagonally across her back by a sturdy nylon strap. Anne was ready with a small box of breakfast pastries and the kettle fresh off the boil, hoping for a quick chat before they brought out the music. But Jasmine seemed somehow distracted.
She set her violin down by the keyboard and opened the case, revealing the shiny golden-hued fiddle inside, but her eyes kept darting about the apartment and she eyed Anne curiously, long searching looks replacing her usual cheerful demeanour.
“Coffee or tea? The kettle is hot.” Anne began to move towards the kitchen.
There was a moment of silence. Jasmine was usually so voluble, so ready to talk. “No thanks. Perhaps later. Not now.”
Those curious eyes flashed around the space again. What was she looking for? Maybe something else?
“Glass of water? Or maybe some juice? I think I’ve got apple juice.”
Jasmine shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” More silence. Then, “Mind if I use the washroom?”
“Of course. Down the hall. You know where it is.”
