by Ann McMan
Maddie lifted her chin. “Your ex-husband?”
“Soon-to-be-ex-husband,” Syd corrected. “Yeah. I really came up here to get away from him, and to figure out what I want to do with what’s left of my life.”
“So how’s that working out for you?”
“Apparently about as well as your retreat is working out for you.”
They smiled at each other in awkward camaraderie.
Maddie lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to kicking some demon ass.”
Syd clinked rims with her. “I’ll certainly drink to that.” Just as she raised her glass to her lips, Pete sat up and barked as he charged toward the stairs leading to the ground. He vaulted over Syd’s ottoman and knocked the wine glass out of her hand with his tail. The red liquid sloshed out across her lap, but she caught the glass by its stem before it hit the floor.
“Oh, shit.” Maddie rushed to her. She took the glass and set it down on a nearby table. “I’m so sorry. He probably saw some deer down by the pond. They come in at night to drink.”
Syd struggled to her feet. “It’s okay. Really.” The wine continued to seep into her blouse and slacks. “But I’d better try to rinse this out now, or these clothes will be ruined.”
“Of course. C’mon inside. We’ll fix you right up. We can just throw them in the wash. I’ll give you something to wear.”
They walked back into the house. “Don’t bother with that. If I can just rinse them out, I can take them to the laundromat tomorrow.”
Maddie led the way back through the kitchen to a laundry room at the rear of the house. “No way. You let that stain soak in over night, and that outfit’s gonna be toast. She went to a folding table and pulled a clean set of sweats out of a pile. “Take off your clothes.”
Syd arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the smoothest offer I’ve ever had, but you sure get points for an authoritative delivery.”
Maddie dropped her chin to her chest. “God, I’m such a steamroller sometimes.” She looked at Syd apologetically. “Sorry. I’m used to calling the shots. Occupational hazard, I guess.”
Syd took the sweats from her. “It’s okay, Doctor. I’ll take your advice.”
Maddie gestured toward the washing machine and all of its accoutrement. “Know how all of this works?”
Syd nodded.
“I’ll be in the kitchen getting us some more wine.” She left Syd alone in the room to change.
Back in the kitchen, Maddie stood for a moment, gently knocking her head against the door of the wine fridge in consternation. Get a fucking grip. You’re acting like a moron. She pulled the door open and looked over the tidy array of bottles. Pinots. Cabs. Zins. Syrahs. Blends.
Wondering which wine went best with pathetic, she pulled out a Spencer Roloson Napa Valley Red. She heard the rush of water as the washing machine started filling, and then Syd walked back into the kitchen. Maddie’s sweats were comically large on her. The cuffs of the pants were turned up so many times Syd looked like she had fleece muffs around her ankles. Maddie stifled a laugh.
Syd rolled her eyes. “If we’re going to make a habit of this, could you at least try to be shorter so I’ll feel less ridiculous?”
“Oh, I promise. Shorter. Yes, ma’am. I’ll get to work on that straight away.” Maddie went to the island and started to open the new bottle of wine. “You look adorable—like you’re twelve.”
“Oh, thanks. That’s just the look I was going for . . . petulant.” She pushed the sleeves of the navy blue Penn sweatshirt up her arms, then noticed the time on her wristwatch. “My god. Do you realize it’s ten-thirty?”
Shocked, Maddie stopped the corkscrew in mid-twist. “No? Really?” She looked at her own wrist. “Oh.” She paused. “Well . . . you can have another glass of wine and wait on your clothes, or, if you need to go, I can take you back to your car now, and bring them to you tomorrow. It’s your call. The drill sergeant is off-the-clock.”
The seconds ticked by while Syd deliberated, and Maddie stood with the corkscrew wound halfway into the bottle of wine.
“I’d really hate for you to make a special trip into town tomorrow. But, on the other hand, I don’t want to keep you up any later, either.” She hesitated. “How tired are you?”
Maddie decided to reply honestly. “Strangely, I’m not tired at all. I’m enjoying the conversation.” She smiled. “It’s nice to have some company out here for a change.”
“Okay . . . if you’ll promise not to let me overstay my welcome, then I’d love another glass of wine.”
Maddie gamely raised three fingers on her left hand in a Girl Scout salute. “I promise.” She finished opening the bottle of wine. “Grab yourself another glass, and let’s go sit in the parlor—it was getting a little too cool out on the porch, anyway.”
“Right behind you,” Syd said, retrieving another glass from the sideboard.
THEY WALKED BACK toward the front of the house. Maddie stopped at the front door to let a happily penitent Pete inside, then led them into the large parlor on the left side of the hallway. She flipped a wall switch, and Syd caught her breath at the black baby grand piano in the corner facing the front windows. Its keyboard and soundboard covers were closed, but the cabinet looked immaculate.
“My god.” She walked to it. “This is a Bösendorfer.” She looked up at Maddie. “I’ve never even seen one of these outside of a conservatory.” She looked it over with a stunned expression. “Was this your father’s, too?”
“Nope. That belonged to my mother. She was the musician in the family.” She smiled. “Dad and I had to content ourselves with playing the stereo. We were both so unmusical it drove my mother nuts.” Maddie set her wine glass and the bottle down on the coffee table situated in front of two leather-upholstered club chairs. “I went through six grueling years of lessons before she realized I was better suited to operating on pianos than playing them. I think it all came to a head the day she got home from work and found me dismantling the soundboard.”
Syd gasped in horror.
“Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.” She dropped into one of the armchairs. “Needless to say, I didn’t sit down on that bench—or any other surface—for over a week.” She laughed. “I never took another piano lesson, either.”
Syd shook her head as she set her own wine glass down next to Maddie’s. She went back to the piano and lifted the keyboard cover. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Syd bent over the keyboard and played a chord. Then two. Smiling to herself, she played a sequence of arpeggios. The silvery sound rang through the room. She stood up and closed the cover, then turned to Maddie.
“It’s in perfect tune. Perfect pitch. Perfect action.” She dropped into the chair next to Maddie’s. “It’s perfect in every way.”
Maddie nodded. “That’s good to hear. It actually belonged to my grandmother, so it’s been in the family for quite a while. I think she bought it in Austria, so it’s a bit different from the U.S. models.”
“You keep it tuned?”
“Yeah. Dad always did. I’ve kept up with it since I’ve been back.” She hesitated. “I know that probably seems odd or morbid.”
Syd shook her head. “Not at all.” She met Maddie’s eyes. “Is . . . did . . . has your mother passed away?”
“Oh, no. She’s not dead—just gone. My parents divorced when I was ten, and she moved to the west coast. She left it behind.” After a moment, she added, “There were quite a few things she left behind.”
Syd could sense that they were venturing into awkward terrain. “Well, that’s an amazing instrument. I played a Bösendorfer once in college, and remember how different it was from all the Steinways the department had—heavier action—a different kind of resonance altogether.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Rochester.”
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Rochester?”
Syd shrugged. “Eastman.”
Maddie tilted her head as she regarded her. �
��Impressive.”
“It really wasn’t—I really wasn’t.” She met Maddie’s interested gaze. “I got my artist’s certificate—barely. But I wisely changed my major to music education. I just didn’t have the temperament for a full-fledged career in performance. The ones who did—they were just so different. Their lives were so focused and pared down. It was like they each had only one life decision to make, and they had made it.” She took a sip of wine. “That just wasn’t me. It still isn’t.” She set her glass down on a small side table, next to a worn and bookmarked copy of David Copperfield.
“Still . . . you’re pretty modest for someone with an Eastman certificate.”
“Oh, really, Miss Ivy League? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
Maddie feigned umbrage. “I’ll have you know that I’m not modest at all. Arrogance was the first thing they taught us in med school.” She drew her brows together. “I think it had something to do with billing and fee schedules, but I confess all of that weightier stuff was pretty murky to me.”
Syd snorted. She looked around the room and its walls lined with bookcases. Opposite their chairs was a beautiful fireplace with a whimsical, Chagall watercolor hanging over it. She inclined her head toward the picture.
“Was that your mother’s, too?”
Maddie followed her gaze. “The Chagall? Nope. That’s mine. I bought it years ago at a gallery in Washington. It was my reward for finishing my residency.”
Syd stared at Maddie. “You mean it’s an original?”
Maddie laughed. “It’s a lithograph, but it’s signed and numbered.” She continued to look at it fondly. “I always loved his Magic Flute series.”
Syd nodded. “I know what you mean. The murals at The Metropolitan Opera are stunning.”
They drifted into silence. At a low volume in the background, a cello played its last, heroic note. Syd heard the faint whirring sound of the CD changer from someplace across the room. After a pause, the sensuous strains of Mendelssohn’s violin sonata filled the air. She smiled to herself. It was as if someone had faxed Maddie a list of her favorite recordings.
“Tell me more about your soon-to-be-ex-husband. What went wrong?” Maddie’s quiet voice cut through her musings.
Syd stared down at the large red and black patterns in the kilim rug at her feet. She exhaled and looked up into Maddie’s friendly blue eyes. “It’d be quicker and easier to tell you what went right. Describing what went wrong would keep us both sitting here until dawn.”
Maddie gave her a small smile. “That would be okay, too. Remember. I make great coffee.”
Syd brightened up at the mention of Maddie’s coffee. “That’s right. I forgot about that.” She smiled in remembrance of their roadside adventure. “Okay, then. Short version of the long story.” She sat back in her chair and draped her arms over the sides. “I met Jeff when I moved back to Baltimore after college. He was there interning with my dad.” She looked at Maddie. “My father is an agronomist at College Park. He works mostly in the watershed areas of the Chesapeake. Jeff was a grad student at Duke, and he came to Maryland on a summer research grant. That’s how we met.”
“How long did he work with your father?”
“About four months. During that time, a professor of mine from Eastman connected me with the Baltimore Symphony. I got a job subbing for a music librarian who was out on maternity leave. That ended just about the time Jeff was leaving to return to Durham.”
“Now I know how you ended up in North Carolina.”
“And why I decided to go to library school. I really loved the work.”
“So the two of you got married?”
Syd shook her head. “Not right away. I moved to Durham with him but we didn’t marry until nearly a year later. My leaving with him without getting married totally freaked my mother out. Jeff wanted to get married, too, but I wasn’t ready to take a step like that—not so soon. I got tired of fighting the two of them. Finally, they wore me down, and I capitulated.” She paused to push the sleeves up on the oversized sweatshirt. “It was impulsive. We got married on a Wednesday afternoon by a Justice of the Peace at Durham City Hall.” She absently rotated the tiny gold ring on her right pinkie finger. “We didn’t even get dressed up.” She shook her head and looked up at Maddie. “It’s amazing how something that takes less than two minutes to accomplish can completely change your life.”
“What happened?”
“Well, for starters, I didn’t realize that I was marrying a perpetual student. He bounced around from one program to another—never completing anything. His parents were—are—terribly generous with him, financially. He could pretty much do whatever he wanted.” She laughed bitterly. “Still can.”
“Tell me more about him. If you married him, he had to have some redeeming qualities.”
Syd smiled at her. “You flatter me. But to his credit—yes, he was charming.” She ticked off his attributes on her fingers. “Only child of wealthy, northeastern parents. Nice looking. Great personality. Loved the outdoors. Loved being around other people—got along well with everyone.” She rolled her eyes. “He got along especially well with starry-eyed, undergraduate coeds.”
“Uh oh.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t make that discovery until a year after we were married. By then, I was already in the middle of my library school program at Carolina.” She shook her head. “I hung in there with him for another year and tried to make it work. But by the time I finished my degree, I knew it was over.” She turned in her chair to face Maddie. “So you see, this opportunity came along at just the right time for me.”
Maddie’s gaze was empathetic. “I’m sorry, Syd. That can’t have been an easy decision to make.”
“You’d be surprised. The chance to hide out up here and sort out my future fell into my lap like manna from heaven. I jumped at it.”
Maddie looked thoughtful. “It’s ironic.”
“What is?”
“You came here to figure out your future. I came here to confront my past.”
Syd gave her a small smile. “Maybe it’s no accident that we met on the roadside that day.”
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Are you a fatalist?”
“Not generally, but I try not to miss the really big clues the universe tosses in my path.” She picked up her wine glass. “Like this, for example. If I drink any more, I’ll never be able to drive myself home—not safely, anyway.”
Maddie sighed. “You’re right. Frankly, I’m not sure I should even think about driving you back to your car.” She deliberated. “There’s no way your clothes are going to be ready any time soon. Why don’t you just stay over?”
“Oh, no,” Syd said. “I could never impose on you like that.”
“It’s no imposition at all. Trust me. This place is like a B&B. I have three guest rooms all ready to go. You can just take your pick. I can easily set you up with toiletries and something to sleep in.”
Syd was torn. She was comfortable with Maddie, and she was enjoying the warmth and ease of their interaction. But she worried, again, about pushing the limits of a new friendship too far too fast. She was aware of how isolated she had felt since coming to Jericho, and she didn’t want to let her hunger for meaningful, human interaction make her appear clingy or desperate to Maddie.
Maddie’s low voice cut through her silent monologue. “I can see you’re struggling. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Syd met her concerned blue eyes. “Actually, what I’m sitting here struggling with is entirely the opposite scenario. If anything, I feel too comfortable.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of pathetic weirdo who’s out looking for someone to glom onto.”
Maddie burst into laughter. “God, what a pair we are. I was just saying a version of the same thing to myself in the kitchen while you were in the laundry room changing clothes.” She continued to chuckle. “You know what this means, right?”
&n
bsp; Syd nodded, with a wry smile. “We’re a couple of total losers?”
“That would be correct.” Maddie chortled as she picked up the wine bottle. “May I top you off?”
Syd held up her glass. “You certainly may.” She sighed contentedly and kicked off her shoes. Sinking lower into her chair, she closed her eyes. “Is this where I ask for turn-down service?”
Maddie snorted. “One thing you’ll learn about me if we spend very much more time together is that I rarely turn anything down.”
THEY FINISHED THE second bottle of wine and hung up Syd’s laundry. Maddie walked back through the house, turning off lights. Pete followed along at her heels. After stashing their used plates and glasses in the dishwasher, she picked up her discarded jacket and walked across the kitchen to a back doorway that appeared to lead to the porch.
“C’mon. Let’s go up this way. I can grab you something to sleep in.”
To the left of the back door, a narrow staircase led up to the second floor. Maddie flipped some wall switches at the top of the stairs, illuminating a spacious master suite with large windows on three sides. It was plainly her bedroom.
It had a small sitting area in front of a fireplace and beautiful heart of pine flooring. Books and papers were tidily stacked on a low table in front of the fireplace. A brass pharmacy lamp stood on the floor beside an upholstered chaise. A pottery jar full of pens and highlighters sat atop a Shaker candle stand. The rest of the room was decorated with primitive American antiques and brightly-colored kilim rugs. A large bed, neatly made-up with a star-pattern Amish quilt, jutted out into the room from a corner near the entrance to a huge, tiled bathroom. A few colorful art prints and several framed black and white photographs ornamented the walls.
Maddie tossed her jacket across the foot of the bed and went to an oak, five-drawer chest. Pete followed her and plopped down in an oversized dog bed near the door to the hallway.
