A Diva in Manhattan

by Aubrie Dionne

  The girl tilted her head, her flamingo beak pointing to the side. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “They love you.” She brought her to the edge of the stage and pulled back the curtain. Most of the audience had stood from their seats- which was unheard of in the middle of a production.

  Alaina stared in bafflement. “That’s for me?”

  “Yup. Soak it in.”

  Alaina couldn’t believe it. Had she sung that well?

  “Come on, let’s get you to a chair. You look like you’re going to pass out.” The girl led her backstage. “Do you need anything before you go back on?”

  “No. Thank you.” Alaina collapsed in a folding chair as the girl left to prepare for her scene. Shock and disbelief rattled her senses. All of those people clapped for her. She’d gotten a standing ovation during her debut performance at the Met.

  If she hadn’t still been entrenched in the aria’s emotions, she would have been on cloud nine.

  A few feet away, Bianca fastened her black headdress beside a mirror with a miserable frown on her face. “Congrats. They love you.”

  “Thanks.” Pity softened Alaina’s heart. She actually felt sorry for her. By exposing Lance, or should she say Brett, Bianca had meant to ruin Alaina’s performance. But the betrayal had given Alaina the substance she’d needed all along, taking her performance to the next level.

  Must suck to have your plan explode in your face.

  Alaina chugged some water from her water bottle and her dizziness cleared. “By the way, I owe you one.”

  Bianca glanced at her with distrust. Black lipstick suited her so well. “For what?”

  “For telling me the truth.” Alaina stood and held out her hand. This had gone on too long. “Truce?”

  Bianca stared at the hand as if it were diseased.

  “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened between us, and I’d like to start from scratch.”

  “Pft.” Bianca smoothed over her dress. “As if. I don’t have time for this. I’m going on in five minutes.”

  Alaina quelled her rising frustration, breathing deeply. This would be harder than she thought, especially since her performance had drawn the first standing ovation. The old Alaina would have thought Bianca wasn’t worth her breath, but after hearing about her past and her time at Heart House, Alaina couldn’t give up on her. “We both know you and I aren’t going anywhere, so we might as well work together. I’d like to have a fellow colleague come with me to my scholarship meeting with Altez next Monday. I’m sure you’d have some good ideas.”

  Bianca glanced at her with suspicion. “You don’t mean that.”

  Alaina nodded, still holding out her hand firmly. “I do.”

  She’d gained favor with the conductor, and the smartest move would be to befriend her rival. Bianca may not like her, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her career for personal feelings. At least, that’s what Alaina bet on.

  Bianca pursed her lips. She reached out and shook Alaina’s hand. “Very well. Truce.”

  Behind them the stage director called for the Queen of the Night.

  “Good luck out there.” Alaina smiled.

  “After what you just did, I’m going to need it.” Bianca gave her a half smile and took her position back stage. It was the first compliment Bianca had ever given her.

  An uneasy peace had settled between them, but it might be the start of a working relationship. Alaina sipped her water, preparing for her next scene.

  She’d still watch her back. Just in case.

  ***

  After the performance and two encores, Alaina walked back to her dressing room with three bouquets of flowers in her arms. She’d sung better and better with each entrance, and Altez had come up to her at the end and kissed her hand. For a moment, she’d forgotten all about the fake Lance.

  Until she saw his roses lying outside her dressing room door with a note.

  Really?

  He couldn’t just deliver them again and hope everything would be all right.

  She picked up the roses and moved to throw them away when the note caught her eye.

  Dear Alaina,

  You were marvelous. I enjoyed every minute we spent together.

  From a sewer rat to a superstar,

  Brett.

  She’d told him to take a hike. So why had he stayed for her performance? Did he think he could still have a chance with her after lying the whole time?

  Alaina paused over the trashcan. He had told her he’d wanted to tell her something after the performance. Was he going to tell her the truth?

  She’d never know. Should she care?

  She shouldn’t, but the wounded part of her soul that already missed him did. Hardening her nerves, she threw the roses away and took the other three bouquets home with her. She didn’t need anything reminding her of Brett.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Truth

  The next morning, Alaina opened her apartment door and stared at the newspaper at her feet. This was it; the make it or break it moment that would define the rest of her career at the Met.

  She opened the New York Times and flipped right to the Arts and Entertainment section. The top headline was a review of the opera by Ernest Theodore the second, the leading music critic in the world.

  Hands shaking, she braced herself and read.

  “The Metropolitan’s interpretation of the wonderfully popular The Magic Flute comic opera by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is a must see. Altez Vior lights the orchestra on fire as the maestro, and the stage sets are beyond the best I’ve seen. But…”

  Alaina’s spotted her name coming up and her heart dropped to the floor.

  “…the most outstanding element of this magical performance is Alaina Amaldi’s performance of Pamina in a stunning, daringly sorrowful rendition which came straight from her soul with such unusual intimacy.”

  Alaina grasped the paper to her chest. Ernest Theodore called her ‘stunning.’ He thought she was daring? He’d realized she was singing straight from her soul?

  She should have jumped for joy, called everyone she knew, and hosted a giant bash at the richest club in town. Instead, Alaina quietly closed the door to her apartment and placed the paper on her kitchen table.

  The victory was empty. She had no one special to share it with.

  If only Lance had been real.

  But he wasn’t. He was Brett…what had Bianca said his name was? Brett Robinson, some kid of construction guy.

  Wait a second.

  Alaina remembered back to the day she’d had her audition. Hadn’t she seen a wide shouldered construction hunk with shoulder length chestnut hair staring at her from across the street? Had it been him?

  She turned on her laptop and carried it to the couch.

  Who was this Brett Robinson anyway?

  Despite her logical reasoning to let the matter drop and be done with it, she typed in his name and almost dropped her computer on the floor.

  Local Logger Loses Both Parents in Forest Fire. The headline was from the Daily Tribune in northern Maine. Alaina read the article, learning of his family’s logging business, the cabin he’d built with his father, and the tragic fire that had swept the northern forests in Maine last year, obliterating everything meaningful to Brett.

  Alaina rushed to her kitchen drawers and riffled through old receipts, napkins, and melon scooping spoons. She found the Project Wish pamphlet they’d given her at that first auction to show where her money would go. Thank you so much for choosing to donate to Project Wish. Your money will benefit the victims of tragic events such as hurricanes, floods, fires…

  Fires.

  Was that the ‘good cause’ he’d referred to?

  Guilt swept over her. He’d helped Mrs. DeBarr because it benefitted the charity he believed in from his own experience. To refuse to help her would have been against everything that had happened to him. He probably thought he’d go out with the buyer of the date once and never see her
or him again.

  Then, Alaina had bought the date and turned his plan upside down. He hadn’t expected to want to see her again, or for them to fall for each other. But they had. At least she had.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Alaina whirled around. Who would visit this early on a Saturday morning?

  Brett? Even though she understood him better, she wasn’t ready to see him yet. She didn’t know if she wanted to see him again at all. She’d been so certain last night, but after reading the article and putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together, she still hadn’t made up her mind.

  Alaina tied her bathrobe around her waist and peered out the peephole in her door.

  Mrs. DeBarr stood in the hallway wearing her long leather coat and pearls, her hair curled and her makeup done as though she’d been up for hours.

  What the heck was she doing at her door?

  Alaina undid the lock. “Mrs. DeBarr? What brings you here?”

  The old woman folded her hands in front of her. “I’ve come to formally apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “For leading you to believe Brett Robinson was my son. Now are you going to let me in, or do I have to get down on my knees and beg?”

  The last thing Alaina wanted was for one of the Met’s greatest sponsors, and a frail lady in her seventies to feel unwelcome. “Of course, come in, come in. You’ll have to excuse my apparel.” She showed Mrs. DeBarr to her living room. It was too bad she’d let her place to go hell over the past few weeks. Worn clothes hung on the backs of chairs, and dirty dishes had piled up in the sink.

  “Dear, after how you sang last night, you deserve to walk around in your pajamas all weekend.” Mrs. DeBarr took a seat in the armchair by her sofa.

  Alaina sat across from her. “You were there?”

  “Of course I was. You were marvelous. In fact, a little too marvelous. I can’t help but think some of that sentiment was a product of the situation I put you two in.”

  Alaina glanced down, unable to accept Mrs. DeBarr’s apology on Brett’s behalf. “I certainly understand you trying to find a stand in for your son for the auction. But Brett is a grown man. He could have told me the truth at any time on any of our dates. It was his decision to lie.” And to sleep with her under the guise of another man- but she thought she’d leave that part out. Mrs. DeBarr didn’t need the X-rated version.

  The old woman held her gaze with a drop-dead stare. “He had no choice.”

  Alaina shook her head, not wanting to accept another story. All it did was create more confusion in her heart. “What do you mean? You didn’t hold a gun to his head…did you?”

  Mrs. DeBarr laughed, fingering her pearls. “No gun involved. I assure you.” Her eyes grew sad, and she frowned, looking ten years older than her age. “I was greedy and lonely, and I wanted a son who had the time for me, a son who could help me fundraise. So, I took him to meet my husband at the hospital. I told Brett every minute he stayed my son bought more research for my husband’s cancer. How could he have said no?”

  Alaina’s heart broke all over again. If what Mrs. DeBarr said was true, Brett had lied to her for all the right reasons. She’d punished him for acts of charity, and for falling for her in the process, when it would have been much easier to brush her off. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Mrs. DeBarr reached across the space between them and took her hands. Even though her fingers were small and frail, she had a hearty, determined grasp. “Because he cares about you more than you know. He’d wanted to tell you the truth all along. I got in the way.”

  All of the walls Alaina had built broke down inside her, and tears welled in her eyes. “I was so mean to him. When I learned the truth, I kicked him out.”

  Mrs. DeBarr nodded. “It was a normal response. I’m sure he still wants see you, that’s if you’re still willing to have him. He is a construction worker, as you know.”

  “What someone does has never made a difference to me.” Alaina chewed on her lower lip.

  “Then, what really matters, my dear?” Mrs. DeBarr searched her eyes.

  Anger rose inside her, still fresh from last night’s embarrassing display in front of Bianca. “Honesty’s a big one.”

  Mrs. DeBarr wiggled her pointer finger. “He’d planned to tell you the truth all along.”

  Alaina played with the tie of her bathrobe, wrapping it around her finger. “I also want someone I can have fun with. Someone who accepts me for who I am.”

  The old woman spread her hands. “I don’t usually share my opinion on such matters, but in this case, I have to say he’s the one.”

  The one.

  Her stomach hollowed out. “That’s what the psychic said at the White Mountain Lodge.” Alaina ran her hands through her hair as realization hit. “Brett couldn’t acknowledge it because she’d said his parents had died too soon- of smoke inhalation and he was still pretending you were his mother. But, the psychic was right. And she had a message from them from beyond the grave.”

  Mrs. DeBarr’s eyes widened. “What was the message?”

  Alaina’s skin prickled with goose bumps. “‘She’s the one.’”

  Mrs. DeBarr pursed her lips. “Was she, by any chance, talking about you?”

  Alaina covered her mouth with her hands. “I think she was.”

  Acceptance, guilt, and hope stormed through her. “I have to find him. I don’t even have his number or know where he lives.”

  Mrs. DeBarr sat back in the chair and threaded her fingers together on her lap. “Now that, I can help you with.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Offer

  Monday mornings always hit Brett with a cold dose of reality, but today ranked as the number one worst. The cloudy sky rained icy drizzle, he didn’t have anything in his apartment to eat for breakfast, and he’d lost the love of his life. Staring at the Met all day was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “I take it that telling her the truth didn’t go so well?” Phil opened his package of powder doughnuts and stuffed two in his mouth.

  “Nope.” Brett checked the truck. A whole new shipment of planks to unload. Today was his lucky day.

  “So what happened?” Phil offered him a doughnut, like that was going to fix everything.

  Brett took it anyway. “Before I could tell her, that blonde woman who’d visited the site the other day came over and spilled the beans.”

  “You mean the one asking for the guy named Lance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Shit.” Phil shook his head. “Tough luck, huh?”

  “Like she would have liked me any better if I’d told her the truth?” Brett shook his head. “I’m a construction worker, and she’s an opera star. She wouldn’t have given me the time of day if she’d met me for real.”

  Phil glanced at the sky and furrowed his brow, looking like a Greek philosopher who liked doughnuts. “You can’t know that. From what you’ve told me, she sounds like she’d looking for Mr. Right not Mr. Rich.”

  Brett shrugged, knowing his friend was right, which made the wound in his soul ache so much more. Alaina had been everything he’d hoped for. She wasn’t a snobby diva, but a kind-hearted person who didn’t mind hiking in the mud, teaching kids music, or throwing rocks in a stream.

  A black limo pulled up to the curb with the license plate DeBarr. Brett’s chest tightened. “Oh no, not Mrs. DeBarr again.”

  “Maybe this time she’ll ask you to impersonate some senator to get some kind of cancer research legislation passed.”

  He raised an eyebrow at Phil. “What have you been watching on TV?”

  “Nothing. With the stories you tell, I don’t need it.” Phil winked and stepped aside. “I’ve got to finish my doughnuts. Good luck, man.”

  The limo door opened, and a glorious head of red hair came out. She wore the same red blazer she’d worn on their date, along with super sexy skinny jeans, revealing her long legs, and of course her new hiking boots.

  Brett’s hopes soa
red at the same time as the pain of rejection came back in full force.

  Alaina turned and caught his gaze as the other construction workers around him whistled and hollered.

  Brett turned around and gave them all death stares. He felt oddly out of place in his old jeans, orange vest and construction boots. But, he was done with putting on a show. This was the real him, and she’d have to accept it whether she liked it or not.

  He hoped she liked it. Otherwise, why would she be here?

  “Alaina?”

  She crossed her arms. “I have a proposition to offer you. I was supposed to go to a luncheon with this guy named Lance DeBarr. Well, it turns out he has no idea I exist, so I was hoping you’d stand in his place.”

  Brett smiled; she always managed to cheer him up, even on a gloomy day. “Does this mean I have to auction myself off again on another date?”

  Alaina pursed her lips as if considering it. “Not if you agree to go on one with me.”

  Brett couldn’t take it anymore. He had to drop this little game. “You mean you forgive me?”

  “You know what they say about second chances.” Alaina reached in her pocket, took out a rock and handed it to him. “Just don’t throw it at the cars.”

  Brett held the rock like it was a diamond of hope. “What made you come back?”

  “Oh, you know, your typical visit from a fairy godmother.” She jabbed her thumb at the limo.”

  Brett laughed. “She can be very persuasive.”

  “She can.” Alaina’s face turned serious. “But even before Mrs. DeBarr visited me, I’d looked you up the morning after my performance. I know about what happened to your cabin in Maine, and I’m sorry about your parents.”

  Brett glanced away. Could he talk about it? If he wanted to be with Alaina, than he had to try. “I came to New York to get away because I couldn’t stand the hurt.”

  “I know.” She took his hand. “I want to build another cabin with you someday, when you feel like you can go back. You make me happy in so many ways. You’ve shown me there’s more to life than opera. When I’m around you, I’m a better, more rounded person. You’ve taught me how to laugh at myself when I fall over a rock or get scared by a bug. You’ve given me advice on how to talk to the people who have always despised me and make them respect me. You’re the dose of modesty I needed all along. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”