“Why did you pretend like you didn’t know who I was?” He didn’t sound defensive, just curious, like he was trying to make new sense of me.
I turned back. “Why did you automatically assume that I did?”
“Maybe I did assume. But I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people. When people know who I am, they just . . .” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “They see celebrity and think that somehow gives them the right to insert themselves into my life. They hang out in front of my house or send hundreds of e-mails to my mother or call up my old girlfriend to see if she’ll tell any stories about me. I know that’s not what you did, but from the way you were acting, it just seemed like . . .” He shook his head, his words trailing off into nothing.
His answer held more honesty than I’d expected, laced with a hint of what seemed almost like regret. I could only imagine trying to date or have a normal life when so many people were interested in your personal activities. He was probably constantly wondering if people were sincere in their interest to get to know him or just enamored by the glitz of fame. Suddenly I understood why moving to a tiny duplex in West Asheville had such appeal.
Still, he was wrong about me. “So you thought you had me figured out? I was just another fan tracking you down, hiding outside your apartment, waiting for the chance to jump out and get your autograph? Sorry to disappoint you. No Elliott posters on my wall. No love letters hidden under my pillow.” I leaned forward now, uncomfortably aware that I might be hissing. My bad mood was making me harsher than necessary. “I don’t even really like your music.”
I couldn’t decide what to make of the look on his face—the tight jaw, confused eyes. But I didn’t have it in me to puzzle it out. I shook my head. “I’ll see you around.” I pushed my way through the front door without waiting for his response.
Inside my apartment, I dropped onto the sofa with a huff, my coat still on, my purse and violin still hanging from my shoulder.
“Hey.” Lilly closed her book and looked over at me. “Tough night?”
I frowned. “I went home and tried to practice with Ava, and it was awful. And then I ran into Elliott outside.”
“Yeah? Was it better this time around? You didn’t ask for his autograph, did you?”
“That would be funnier if it wasn’t exactly what he thought I was going to do. He didn’t know I lived here. All the times he’s seen me getting in my car, or ‘lurking’ around the apartment, as he liked to call it, he thought I was stalking him.”
Lilly laughed, her eyes wide. “Oh my gosh, that’s awful. Did you explain? He must have thought you were completely psycho.”
“Yes, I explained, but it was just . . . he was so arrogant about the whole thing.”
“Emma, he thought you were stalking him. You gotta admit it’s kind of hilarious. He has to feel stupid now that he knows you live here.”
“I’m sure he does, but honestly, it’s just more drama than what I want to deal with. Making new friends shouldn’t be so hard.”
“Even gorgeous, famous, talented friends?”
I frowned. “Especially those.” I stood and shrugged off my purse, then took my violin to its home by the piano. “How did he not hear me practicing? Did he think you were the one playing the violin?”
“Why not?” Lilly shrugged. “He hardly knows me. If he did hear you playing, he’d have no reason to think it wasn’t me. And you’ve hardly practiced at home this week, at least not while I’ve been around. It’s possible he just hasn’t heard you yet.” She stood from the couch. “Oh, a nice lady stopped by while you were at your parents’ house. A somebody Hansen? She wanted to ask you about playing in church next week.”
“She stopped by? Like she was actually here in person?” I asked.
“How else does anyone stop by but in person? She was here a few hours ago, said she thought asking you face-to-face would make it harder for you to say no.”
“Did she mention what she wanted me to play?”
“Nope. Just said for you to call. I wonder if it’ll also have a piano part. Think she’ll hit up the new pianist in town?”
I stifled a groan. “She better not, but knowing the way my ward thinks, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s considered it.”
“You better talk her out of it,” Lilly said. “You know if you don’t, Elliott’s going to think it was your idea.”
Chapter 8
Sister Hansen only needed a little coaxing when I asked her to accompany me herself instead of asking Elliott, which seemed only fair. The musical number was her idea anyway.
“Elliott is laying low for a while,” I told her. “I don’t think he’s looking to play in public—even church.”
She finally relented, which meant I finally agreed to play, which meant I had one more thing to practice in my week that was already full of practicing. I had two quartet gigs to prep for—another wedding, with a very specific set list (fortunately not composed by the sister of the bride), plus an upscale work party that was paying triple our regular fee for booking last minute. I also had new symphony music to look over and needed to polish my audition pieces for the associate concertmaster position in Atlanta.
Still, I was glad for the busy week. It served as a great distraction, making it harder for me to spend any time wondering what Elliott was up to. With Ava and her issues, Grayson and his stupid wedding, and all my practicing, I had more than enough to keep my mind busy.
After chamber rehearsal Thursday night, Grayson followed me to my car and asked again if I was planning to attend the wedding. It was annoying. He’d done his duty by inviting me. I couldn’t figure out why he cared so much if I actually decided to attend.
“I’m still not sure if I can make it,” I answered. “Is this a dinner menu thing? Like you need my RSVP so you can buy enough steak?”
“Not really. That will matter eventually, but you can just send in the response card. This is more of a favor-to-my-future-mother-in-law type thing.”
“How do you mean?”
“She wants to meet you.”
Um, what? “Why would she want to meet her son-in-law’s ex-girlfriend?”
“She doesn’t want to meet you because of me. She wants to meet you because you’re Emma Hill.” He motioned to my violin. “She knows who you are.”
“Really?”
“She’s a pretty huge patron of the arts. She makes big donations to the symphony every year and said she’d really like to meet you. She’s curious about you.”
“Curious why?”
He shrugged and shifted his weight. “Who did you play with in New York? Apparently she heard you play a few times before you came here. You were already on her radar when you moved.”
“The better question is who didn’t I play with in New York?”
Grayson’s eyebrows raised in question.
“While I was getting my masters,” I explained, “I played everywhere—in every symphony that would take me.”
“That’s right. I forgot you also went to Juilliard. That explains a lot though. Jane’s family is in New York all the time. When Agnes found out you were an old friend . . . what else can I say? It’s the price you pay for being a celebrity.”
“Ha! I’d like to know where my celebrity paycheck is, then.”
“Hmmm.” He gave me a pitying look. “Pretty sure you left it back in Cleveland.”
My eyes narrowed. “Don’t start that again. You can’t make me feel bad about leaving.”
He held his hands up. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. You’re the one complaining about making less money.”
“I was just being funny. Even my full-time salary in Cleveland would be a joke next to an actual celebrity paycheck. Wait—is that why your mother-in-law is so curious? Because she wonders why I’m here? Seriously, if that’s how she feels, I won’t come. I don’t need to be patronized by people who don’t support my choices.”
Grayson’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy.
Nobody’s trying to patronize you. I was just teasing. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive about it.”
I huffed. “I’m not generally. I just . . . something about you makes me defensive.”
I knew exactly what it was about Grayson that made me defensive. When I was building dreams and making plans and wishing on stars for my future, Grayson had been my fuel to keep going. He’d believed in me, pushed me, challenged me to be better than I’d thought possible. It wasn’t so much that I cared whether he thought I’d made good choices. We’d been apart long enough I was no longer under that particular spell. I just didn’t like that he made me doubt my choices myself.
“Don’t be defensive. We’re cool. I’m glad you’re back in town, and I’ll be even more glad if you come to the wedding, give my mother-in-law an air kiss, and let her feel important for having met you.”
I heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’ll come. But no more snarky remarks about Cleveland. Or New York. I’m in Asheville on purpose, and I’m happy about it.”
“Deal. So I’ll put you down for two, yeah? You’ll bring someone with you?”
There was something keenly humiliating about having my old boyfriend question my current relationship status, seeing as how it was very un-boyfriend-ish. Maybe Lilly could count as my date. “Um, sure. I’ll bring someone.”
“A date?”
Grrgh. Did he really need to push the issue? “A date or a friend, or I don’t know. Maybe I’ll bring my grandma. Why does it matter? I’ll be there, and that’s what you want, right?”
“Well, yeah. But I’ve been pretty honest with Jane about our history, and it makes her a little nervous that you’re suddenly back in my life.”
“I’m not back in your life. I’m in your chamber group. There’s a big difference.”
“I know. And it’s not a big deal. But if you happened to bring a date . . .” He shrugged and gave me a hopeful smile. “It might be a little easier on Jane.”
“So let me get this straight. I’m coming to your wedding to make your mother-in-law happy, but I’m bringing a date so your wife isn’t unhappy? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Just think about it, all right? I’m sure there’s someone you could bring along. An old friend, a cousin maybe?”
A cousin? Was it that hard to imagine I might actually secure a real date? I tossed my hair over my shoulder and swung open the back door of my car to drop in my violin. I turned back to face him, giving the door a good slam. “Or maybe I’ll just bring my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” He didn’t even try to hide his surprise, the jerk. “Well, yeah. That’d be even better.”
It was fine. Totally, completely fine. I mean, the wedding was, what . . . six weeks away? Seven? I could get a boyfriend in seven weeks. And if I couldn’t, then worst-case scenario, Lilly would probably let me borrow Trav. I wondered if I’d be able to convince him to shave.
* * *
On my drive home, my stomach started to hurt. It was possible I was already internalizing the stress of attending Grayson’s wedding with my imaginary boyfriend.
Or maybe I was just hungry.
Thursdays were my longest days: back-to-back lessons from one to five, then chamber rehearsal starting at six. I normally grabbed something quick in between, but my last lesson had run long, and there hadn’t been time. I cataloged the contents of my fridge as I pulled onto Maple Crescent, hoping Lilly had cooked something she’d be willing to share. My phone rang just as I pulled into the drive. I pulled it out of my purse and smiled when I saw my grandma’s picture lighting up the screen.
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Four questions. Do you have time?”
I smiled. Chitchat had never been Gram’s thing. “I’ve got time but only a little. I just got home, and I’m starving.”
“Then I’ll make it quick. Your mother tells me that old boyfriend of yours is in your quartet. Do I need to worry about that?”
Sheesh. Way to start with the serious stuff. “Did Mom also tell you he’s getting married?”
“Well, yes. But you’re a talented and beautiful woman, Bug. Men have changed their minds before.”
There was something hilarious about my grandmother referring to me as a beautiful woman and also calling me Bug—the nickname she’d been using for me since I was four—in the same sentence. “You don’t need to worry,” I told her. “It’s not like that at all. Number two?”
“The piano player. Do you like him?”
I hesitated. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Hmmm. I need more. Keep talking.”
“Let’s say we haven’t exactly gotten off to a great start friendship-wise.”
“Has he heard you play?” Grandma asked.
“No. Or maybe. I don’t know. It’s possible he’s heard me practicing from next door.”
“Not good enough. I don’t know why you even try the talking thing. You need to just knock on his door and play something.”
“Right. Because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.”
“So be a little more subtle. What about a serenade outside his window? You know you’re at your best when you’re holding that instrument. Don’t hide your strengths.”
“Fine, fine. I’m playing in church this weekend. Does that count?”
“Yes! Splendid.”
“Okay. Question three.”
“How’s your momma?”
“She looks really good. She’s up on her feet this week, almost like normal.”
“Is she in pain?”
“It’s hard to say. She’s been masking it for so many years I’m no good at spotting when she’s pretending.”
Grandma was quiet long enough I wondered if the call had been lost. “Grandma? You still there?”
“I’m here, Bug. Just thinking. How often do you see her?”
“Every Tuesday and Friday until two. We normally do appointments, shopping, and errands and stuff on Tuesdays. Then just hang around while I do housework on Fridays. I’m going over on Sundays now too. For the food.”
“And she’s letting you help her?”
“I can tell she hates it, but it makes Dad happy. And we have fun together too. It’s not bad at all.”
“You’re a good girl, Emma.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No, I think it is. And that leads to my fourth question,” Grandma said.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“How are you? And don’t just give me some random rote answer. You’re not allowed to say the word fine.”
I smiled. “I’m good. I’m happy, I think. I like living with Lilly, and it feels good being closer to home.”
“Do you miss Cleveland?”
Now that wasn’t a fair question. For starters, she was in Cleveland, and I missed her like crazy. But I knew that wasn’t what she wanted to know. “That’s question number five. You don’t get that many.”
“Come on. Throw a bone to an old lady.”
I leaned back against my seat, still sitting in my car outside the house. “Of course I miss it, but I’m okay, you know? I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be right now. I just try not to think about where I’m not.”
“Tell me three things you love about Asheville.”
“You are so going over your question limit. I get extra questions for you next time we talk.”
She laughed. “Fine, but only if you give me three things you like.”
“I like living with Lilly. I like playing in a smaller symphony and still having time to teach. And I like being closer to Mom. And Dad and Ava too. Maybe not always Ava. But mostly.”
“Okay,” Grandma said with a satisfied air.
“Okay?”
“Okay. You pass. Go find some food.”
“I love you, Gram.”
“Love you too, Bug. Wear your red dress when you play on Sunday. Resist the urge to wear black!”
I shook my head and laughed as I hung up the phone. I really did miss a lot of
things about Cleveland but nothing more than Gram. My stomach growled, and I climbed out of the car, finally making my way up the front walk and onto the porch.
“Emma.”
I almost jumped out of my skin. Elliott was sitting on the porch in the extra-wide rocker in the corner. In the dark.
“Geez. You scared me to death. I didn’t see you there.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
I pressed my hand against my chest and felt my heart pounding under my palm. I took a deep, calming breath and looked in Elliott’s direction. Branches from a large oak tree hung over the left side of the porch where he sat, blocking the light from the street lamps and casting such a heavy shadow I couldn’t make out his face at all. He was nothing but a blurry outline against the white of the chair cushion behind him. “Do you want the light on?” I glanced up. “There’s a switch just inside the entryway.”
“No. Actually I was waiting for you.”
Waiting for me? I was kinda surprised he even remembered my name. “In the dark?”
He held up his hand, his phone flashing blue before the screen went black. “I’ve been reading.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to sit?”
Yep. At my kitchen table. With a plate of food in front of me. “Um, sure.” I shifted my bags, lowering them and my violin to the porch before moving to the chair opposite his.
“Lilly told me you’d be home soon. Sorry if this is weird. I just didn’t want to miss you.”
What was weird was hearing him talk to me all normal-like, as though the last conversation we’d had hadn’t included him calling me a crazy, psycho stalker. “It’s fine,” I managed to say. “What’s up?”
Love at First Note Page 7
