“First of all, I was in the wrong country, it wasn’t the thirties and I didn’t come from boarding school money. But I asked around, went to the library and eventually found out about prep schools. I wanted one where I could stay there year-round and get out of the foster system. A place that had uniforms so my clothes wouldn’t stand out. I also knew that the only way I could get there was on a scholarship, or if someone sponsored me. So I studied like a maniac and polished my schmooze skills. Then I applied everywhere until this place in Pennsylvania offered me a scholarship.”
“And you got there only to discover that they made fun of your background because you weren’t ‘one of them,’ right?”
“Bingo.”
Sympathy shone in her clear blue eyes, but before it could make him uncomfortable, she leaned over and pinched his cheek. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re a major cutie, or you wouldn’t have had such an easy time of it.”
“Hey, I’m spilling my guts here.” But he grinned.
“I know. And I hope you know that no one here is going to act like those little cretins at your boarding school.”
He hated to ask, but he had to know. “Isn’t that why you burned the goose?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me to bring the turkey and then you burned the goose so I’d look good. You were afraid your parents were going to see through me.”
She looked flabbergasted. “That is the most-Spencer, if anything, my parents should be worried that you’ll see through them. That’s not their money they give away.”
“Then whose is it?”
“The Cultural Arts Foundation’s. My father is just an employee.” She flung her arm all around them. “The foundation owns all this. My parents don’t dwell on that fact, though. I think that’s why they wanted at least one of their children to be the performer Emily is—so they would have a legitimate entree to the arts world. And other than Emily, my aunt Carolyn doesn’t care about the society aspects at all. It’s like Emily and I were born into the wrong families.”
She blinked at him, and he realized she’d just spilled her guts. He remembered her mother’s scathing remarks about Lexi not using her talent and figured Lexi was remembering them, too.
He stared at her, feeling a strange bonding, one he’d never felt with a woman. She’d been hurt, too. It shone clearly in her eyes. Spencer didn’t like seeing it there. He didn’t know what to do, or say, so he fell back on one of his tried-and-true moves.
He kissed her.
Just reached out, pulled her to him and kissed her, reveling in the fact that he could hold her in his arms again.
And that was the exact instant her mother discovered them. “Alexandra?” she called from the French doors.
They jerked apart.
“Oh, you two.” She beamed at them fondly. “And there isn’t even any mistletoe out here.”
They stood staring at each other, their breaths coming quickly, making little white puffs.
Spencer felt cold, and not because he was no longer wearing his jacket. Lexi knew why he was here, but being caught sneaking a kiss from the daughter of the house by her mother implied something else entirely, and it made him uneasy, as did the soft look in Lexi’s eyes.
“Come inside at once.” Mrs. Jordan beckoned. “I have the most wonderful news. Emily has agreed to sing for us before we eat!”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Lexi asked, shrugging out of Spencer’s coat.
Her mother blinked. “You just don’t assume a person of Emily’s stature will sing at every occasion she attends. And, too, there was the smoke.” She closed the doors after them. “Spencer, this will be such a treat for you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.
“And so you should. While Emily is warming up in the music room, we can present you to the others.” Mrs. Jordan frowned. “You can’t perform in an apron,” she said to Lexi.
“I thought Emily was performing.”
“Naturally she’ll need an accompanist.”
“And that would be me.”
“Alexandra, don’t be difficult. This is an honor.”
An honor? An honor? Lexi untied the apron and pulled the bib over her head. “Mom, this is Emily you’re talking about.” But her mother and Spencer had walked on ahead.
Lexi stopped by the kitchen to hang the apron on a hook inside the pantry door, then headed toward the music room. Once she was in the hallway, she could hear Emily me-ma-maw-mo-mooing in the music room.
The music room was actually built specifically as a music room. Artists performing in nearby Austin, or even Houston or Dallas welcomed the retreatlike atmosphere of the big house in Rocky Falls when they stayed here, but they still had to practice. Occasionally, Lexi’s parents, representing the foundation, would have musicales and receptions, so the room saw fairly frequent use.
Only Emily and Marshall were in the room now, with the others waiting outside until Emily was warmed up. Lexi closed the door behind her, but neither Emily nor her husband acknowledged her, so she walked across the wooden floor toward the piano. It was hard to creep across a wooden floor, but she needn’t have bothered for all the response she got.
Marshall played a series of ever-higher chords as Emily’s voice soared up and down the scale. Standing right beside the piano bench, Lexi waited until the warm-up exercise reached its natural conclusion.
“So what are we sing—”
Both Marshall and Emily held out their hands and launched into another exercise.
“Look, if you don’t need me, just say so. I’m sure I can find something else to do.” And someone to do it with.
Emily began a series of nasal humming sounds.
“Can’t you see she’s in the middle of warm-ups?” Marshall snapped. “As a professional, I assumed you’d know she couldn’t be interrupted. But then again, Littletree isn’t exactly Juilliard, is it?”
Lexi didn’t like Marshall very much. She leveled a look at him. “She isn’t the only one who needs to warm up. What does she want me to play for her?”
Emily continued humming as Marshall unzipped a leather portfolio. “Anticipating that Emily would be asked to ‘sing for her supper,’” he said with a disparaging smile, “I brought a selection of seasonal music.” He paged through it. “I don’t think you need to use full voice, Emily. I’ll pull a selection of lighter carols.”
“You mean like ‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’?” Lexi asked.
Marshall didn’t even look up.
“I’d like to sing ‘O Holy Night,’” Emily said. “It has quite a nice accompaniment with it.” She smiled at Lexi, and went back to humming, a finger in one ear.
She speaks! Lexi thought.
“Not today, Emily,” Marshall said. “That’ll require full voice, and there’s no sense in taxing yourself. I’m not even sure I’ll let you sing ‘Silent Night.’”
Lexi looked at his graying temples and the black wire-rim glasses he wore. “Aren’t you an accountant?” she asked him. The fact that he was still sitting on the piano bench and she was still standing beside it made her cranky.
“I’m Emily’s business manager, and in the absence of her vocal coach, I must look out for her resources, namely her voice.” He spoke dispassionately.
Lexi stared first at him, then at Emily, who was still vocalizing. After meeting her eyes for a brief, but telling moment, Emily turned away.
How could she let this—this accountant bully her around? Emily should be able to sing whatever she wanted to.
So a family Christmas dinner wasn’t important enough for “full voice,” was it?
“Since Emily’s resources are so limited, she shouldn’t sing today at all. Don’t worry about it for a moment.” Lexi walked to the other side of the bench and sat, forcing Marshall to scoot to the edge.
“I brought plenty of seasonal music, as well.”
She put her hands on the keyboard and looked at him. “You’re in t
he way.”
A nonplussed Marshall stood, Lexi adjusted the bench, then launched into the Christmas medley she had been playing all month at the Wainright Inn.
That jerk, Marshall, made her angry. Even more, she pitied Emily. What kind of life did she have anyway? She was nothing more than a “resource” to her husband. He decided when and where and what she’d sing. How awful. Lexi never wanted a man to have that much power over her.
Spencer wouldn’t be like that, she knew. He’d be too busy with his own projects to take over her life the way Marshall had taken over Emily’s.
Lexi lost herself in the medley and was surprised to hear applause when she finished. At some point during her angry performance, everyone had filed in and was sitting in the special Wedgwood-blue velvet chairs.
“Thank you, Alexandra,” her mother said. “And now Emily.” She clasped her hands together. “This is going to be such a treat.”
And they hadn’t even had a chance to rehearse together. “Emily and I need a moment,” Lexi said, and gestured for Emily to come to the piano.
When Emily looked at her husband as if for permission, Lexi gritted her teeth. “Bring the music,” she called, hoping Emily would bring the whole portfolio, but no, she brought only the pieces Marshall had selected. For a world-famous opera star, she’d sure turned into a wimp.
“Is Mommy going to sing?” asked Melissa in a stage whisper.
“Apparently so,” replied her father.
Lexi even felt sorry for the kids.
Emily reached the piano and handed Lexi the music.
“This is like old times, isn’t it, Em?” Lexi paged through the music.
“Nothing is like old times,” Emily said, but there was no self-pity in her voice.
Lexi would love to have a heart-to-heart with Emily—and tape it to play for her mother later—but doubted she’d get the chance. “So what are you singing?”
They settled on “Away in a Manger” for the children, “What Child is This?” and “Joy to the World.”
Lexi began playing. Even though the melody and accompaniment were simple, it was obvious from the first notes that the song was being sung by a master.
As she played the first carol, Lexi watched the faces of Emily’s children and had a sudden realization: they didn’t get to see their mother a lot. And this was the kind of life Lexi’s mother had wanted for her?
The second carol didn’t stretch Emily much, either. Still, Lexi could tell Emily was good. No, great. Far better than anyone on the vocal faculty at Littletree.
The thought depressed her. Greatness inspires greatness. Lexi found herself raising her own standard of playing. How long had it been since she’d stretched herself? And how would Littletree ever attract talent even half as good as Emily with the inadequate facilities there now? She was more determined than ever to appeal to her father.
It was time for the third carol they’d selected.
Lexi stared at the introduction, then at Emily, poised to begin singing a triumphant “Joy to the World.” Honestly. So far, this little recital had been like test driving an Indy 500 race car around the block. They needed a quarter mile track to see what it could do.
They needed “O Holy Night.”
And that’s what Lexi began playing. Emily swallowed once, but didn’t flinch and didn’t shake her head.
She opened her mouth and sang. She sang in full and glorious voice with the clear soprano that had soared to the highest balconies of the greatest opera halls in the world.
And Lexi soared with her. Her mother had been right. It was an honor to play for Emily. But Lexi no longer envied her, neither did she pity her. Emily had made choices for her art, choices for which she’d paid a price.
A price, Lexi realized, she wouldn’t have paid.
10
“Wow.” Spencer was waiting for her as everyone crowded around Emily.
Even Dr. Tracey had momentarily forgotten Gretchen and was proving that she could be as star-struck as anyone. Les, who’d been standing against the back wall, had slipped out, his expression eerily close to Gretchen’s sullen one.
“She’s great, isn’t she?” Lexi tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I was talking about you.”
“Playing with her inspired me.” Lexi looked across the music room to where the angelic Emily was holding court. “I used to be jealous, but I’m not anymore. However, I am determined to revitalize the Littletree music department.” She gave him a wry smile. “All it takes is money.”
“Raising money is something I’m very good at,” Spencer said with a grin.
“Ah, yes, the calendar.”
“Francesca already has her picture.”
Lexi laughed and by unspoken agreement, they headed toward the door.
“We’ve washed cars, had bake sales—”
“You’re the guys who had the dunking booth!” Lexi remembered.
“Guilty. Also Appliance Repair Day.”
“Why all the gimmicks?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They generate publicity and publicity leads to name recognition, which leads to money. Every time I was interviewed, I’d work in all the stats about the hand, how it could benefit society, and my sponsors. They love publicity. When it came time to apply for other grants, I’d enclose press clippings.”
Lexi began to get ideas. “The music department could do that.”
“Sure you could. I’ll be glad to brainstorm with you.”
“Okay. We’ll have to get together after the holidays.” That’s a test, Spencer. After the kiss on the patio, she needed to test him. That was no lust kiss, that was a you-mean-something-to-me kiss. It was a kiss that gave a girl hope that she hadn’t blown it with a malfunctioning robotic hand.
She waited to see what he’d say, and when he only nodded, she felt a warm satisfaction spread through her.
Incredibly, wonderfully and impossibly, it appeared that Mr. December might become Mr. January, and who knows? Maybe she and Francesca wouldn’t have to exchange black roses on Valentine’s Day.
“Have we got a few minutes before we eat?” he asked.
“Probably more than a few,” Lexi said.
“I’ve got a present for you. It’s in my coat.”
And she hadn’t noticed it. “Meet me by the Christmas tree.” She’d had to hide his gift because it wasn’t wrapped in official color-coordinated wrapping paper.
Lexi was digging the purple package with the silver hologram ribbon out of the back branches of the tree when Spencer found her. She and Francesca had debated whether Lexi should get Spencer a gift, and if so, what it should be. Ultimately they decided she’d get him one, and if he didn’t get her one, she could hold his for several days and call it a thank-you gift, which doubled as a reason to see him again.
A win-win investment, if she did say so herself.
“Seeing you play reminded me,” he said, and handed her a small box wrapped in silver paper and cord.
Lexi had read enough women’s magazines to be able to analyze the psychological meaning of a gift far beyond what any man intended. The fact that Spencer had brought her a gift at all was infinitely promising.
She opened the box to find a velvet sack. Inside were two brushed-silver sculpted hair clips. Stunning and exquisitely tasteful. “Spencer,” she breathed his name as the gift-o-meter dinged a hit.
“I noticed that you always tuck your hair behind your ears, especially when you play. You have beautiful hair, and I was afraid you’d get irritated and cut it off one day if you couldn’t keep it out of your face. So that’s why I got you the clips. So you won’t have to cut your hair.”
Lexi gazed up into his handsome face. “They’re beautiful.” She would never cut her hair. Never, never, never.
Only, now she had to give her dorky gift to him. She reached into the tree branches and withdrew it.
“You got me a present?” A huge smile creased his face.
“It’s
just a...” Lexi trailed off as she watched him carefully unwrap the package so the paper wouldn’t tear.
“Look at that!” He laughed as he pulled out an acrylic nameplate that had his name spelled out with resistors, capacitors, integrated circuits and other mysterious electronic parts embedded in the plastic.
“One of the art students made it for me,” she explained. “Francesca and I like to support them when we can. I didn’t notice that you had a nameplate.”
“I don’t.” He grinned. “This is great. Thanks.” Lexi smiled, and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Oh, I do tuck my hair behind my ears! I didn’t realize I did that so often. Let me put in the clips.” She carried them over to the mirror hanging above the sofa. As she fastened them, she saw Spencer behind her. He was smiling as he studied the nameplate, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he carefully smoothed the wrapping paper and ribbon, folded it and put it in his pocket.
Lexi’s eyes stung as she realized that he probably hadn’t been given many presents in his life, and her heart ached for the child within the man.
AT LAST, Christmas dinner with a real family. Spencer found he was actually a little nervous. He smiled down at Lexi, enjoying the sight of the clips in her dark hair, and followed her into the dining room.
They were just about to take their seats when Lexi’s brother made his grand entrance. Everyone stared, which was obviously what he had in mind.
Les wore a red knit sleeveless undershirt that revealed his tattooed arms. Spencer had a hard time believing he was Lexi’s twin. The guy acted more like he was Gretchen’s twin.
“Leslie! Put on a shirt!” Mrs. Jordan’s voice quivered with horror.
“I’ve got on a shirt.”
“Put on a different shirt.”
“Why?” He gestured to himself. “I kept to the color scheme.”
“Lawrence, your son is not wearing a shirt.”
“I see that.” Lexi’s father advanced purposefully toward his son. “Leslie, put on a shirt.”
“Oh, I see what this is,” Les said belligerently, and gestured to Emily. “She gets to show off her art, but I can’t.”
Mr. December Page 14
