Kimberly Stuart

by Act Two: A Novel in Perfect Pitch

  “I made a reservation for you at the Maplewood Inn starting March twenty-third, and ending the day after graduation.”

  “Sublime. I’ll be waiting with great anticipation.”

  “You’re a champ, Sadie. Seriously. You’re like a pioneer woman.”

  “Interestingly enough, that was never one of my goals in life.”

  He laughed. “Par for the course in this business, love. I’ll call you in a few days. Keep that beautifully sculpted chin up.”

  I clicked the phone shut. Ellsworth inched the car to a stop by the Hartleys’ side door.

  “Ms. Maddox,” she said, “now, I don’t want you to worry for one minute about the transportation issue.” She reached over to pat my knee. “I’ll be using my noggin all weekend to come to the best solution I can.”

  My confidence did not soar. “Call me with any news,” I said as I let myself out. I trudged up the side steps, tired to the bone and hungry for Excedrin.

  “Hey, there,” Jayne said as I stepped inside the kitchen. She stood at the sink, washing a colander. “How was your first day?” Her smile was warm, and I tried my best to thaw my chilly manners.

  “Long,” I said. “I’m heading to bed early.”

  “Don’t you want some dinner?” she asked. She pulled a plate from the fridge. “We ate early but I saved some chicken pot pie for you. Homemade bread, my grandma’s cranberry relish.”

  “Thank you, Jayne.” I kept walking toward the stairs. “You’re very sweet. But I have a killer headache. If I wake hungry, I’ll come heat it up myself.” Drugs, drugs, drugs, my head screamed. I massaged my forehead as I walked.

  “Okay,” Jayne said, sounding deflated. “I hope you feel better.”

  I was halfway up the first set of stairs before I voiced my agreement. “Me too.”

  The next morning dawned a pale violet. I’d slept straight through the night, at some point tossing my velvet eye mask off the bed. It dangled from the chair by the window. The air was still breathtakingly cold, but the light that suffused the room made it feel warmer than it had the previous day. I could hear the occasional voice of a child downstairs, which was much less disturbing when mingled with the smell of breakfast. My stomach roared an insistent order for whatever was in process in the kitchen. I threw on a velour zip-up and matching pants and headed down the attic stairs.

  “Morning, Miss Sadie!” Drew trumpeted.

  “Morning, Misadie!” Joel mimicked. The boys crouched over a play train on their bedroom floor. They were still wearing their pajamas, though Drew had added a Daniel Boone cap to his ensemble.

  “Wanna play with our trains? Choo chooooo!” Drew’s train whistle was only slightly less piercing than a high C shrieked by my former, perpetually sharp, understudy named Astrid.

  “Maybe I can play with you later,” I said. Maybe if your parents are inexplicably detained for hours and there is no other recourse but to play with you and your trains. Maybe then.

  “My turn with Percy!” Joel said, grabbing a piece of the train from Drew.

  “Mommy!” Drew yelled downstairs.

  “Shhhh!” Jayne took the stairs two at a time and didn’t notice me until she reached the top. She sighed. “I’m sorry. Did they wake you?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “I slept very well, thank you.”

  She turned to the boys. “You two get along, all right? Share the trains or we put them away.” Jayne steered me toward the stairs. “I hope you’re hungry this time. I have a weekend breakfast ready downstairs.”

  “A weekend breakfast?”

  “Just means I don’t have to rush Drew off to school and can make something more involved than cereal and a banana.”

  I breathed deeply. “I smell bacon, pancakes, or maybe French toast …”

  Jayne led me downstairs and into the kitchen. “Yes on the bacon and on the French toast. Care for some coffee?”

  “With cream, please,” I said, and sat down at the table. Jayne set a steaming cup in front of me and a plate heaped with food. The coffee was a bit weak and the French toast soggy. But I was famished and had little room to be picky. Not exactly a plethora of culinary options in the middle of a field. Plus, the bacon was hickory smoked and very crisp, the way God intended. I did not mourn the loss of Wilbur or whichever Hartley animal had been sacrificed for my enjoyment.

  I finished my breakfast and sat drinking the rest of the coffee, watching Jayne. Her multitasking skills were borderline miraculous. She washed a dirty pan, answered the phone, and kept up a constant stream of entertaining kitchen implements for Emmalie, who sat at her mother’s feet. She did all this while monitoring my emptying coffee cup and coming to offer more. I shook my head and she soon signed off on her telephone call.

  “I admire you,” I said. “You juggle more in the space of ten minutes than I do in an entire day.”

  She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t believe that for one minute. You don’t become famous by sitting around.” She glanced at me, her face apologetic. “Not that I would know anything about being famous, I just meant—”

  I held up my hand. “No need for qualifiers. And I’m only famous among people who listen to classical music, a number that appears to need some boosting these days.”

  Jayne was quiet for a moment, running a dishtowel around an already-dry pot. “Is that why you had to come to Maplewood?”

  We heard the front door slam shut and two men laughing.

  Jayne slid the clean pot into a drawer by the stove. “The men are back.”

  The men? Plural?

  Jayne called, “Coffee’s hot in the kitchen.” The baby was suddenly in motion and within seconds had crawled the length of the kitchen and crossed into the dining room.

  “Hey, baby girl.” I heard Cal’s voice just before he entered the kitchen. Right behind him, carrying the giggling Emmalie in his arms, was a tall man with cocoa-colored hair and dark blue eyes that matched those of the baby he hugged.

  “Hi,” Cal said, leaning over to kiss Jayne.

  “We need some introductions,” Jayne said. She reached behind Cal to retrieve two more coffee cups.

  Cal turned to me. “Morning,” he said with a slight nod. “Sadie Maddox, this is my brother, Macalester Hartley.”

  The tall man moved forward, Emmalie clinging to his neck. He smiled warmly and offered his hand. “Call me Mac.”

  “Hello, Mac. I’m Sadie.” I stayed seated, a fresh horror spreading over me at my lack of makeup, de-greased hair, and supportive brassiere. My smile was tight-lipped. No need to add foul breath leakage to the equation.

  “I hear you’re quite the singer,” Mac said, taking the seat across from me at the kitchen table. “Thank you, Jaynie,” he said when she set down a cup of coffee and a little pitcher of milk.

  I watched him splash a bit of white into his cup. “I suppose it depends on your preference,” I said, wishing I could slap my cheeks for instant color. Honestly, what made me think I could eat my breakfast in solitude as was my normal habit? At the very least I could have used a bronzer …

  “My musical preference?” Mac said.

  Cal snickered from his post by the open fridge.

  “Jaynie, why don’t you tell this lovely lady about the musical preferences of the Hartley family?”

  Jayne took the baby from Mac’s lap, as Emmalie was dangerously curious about his steaming cup of coffee. “Well,” she said slowly, “you should know, Sadie. Our Mac is a bit of a local celebrity himself.”

  “Is that right? Do you sing, Mac?”

  “Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “I wouldn’t wish that on any number of people.” He took a long swig of coffee and set down his half-drained cup. “Jaynie is exaggerating about my celebrity status, but I am a big fan of line dancing, the two-step … anything to country music.” He watched my face, one side of his mouth pulled up into a smile. Beautiful, white, even teeth, I had to admit.

  “That’s wonderful,
” I said, an achingly false note in my voice. “There’s room enough for many types of music in the world. What’s important is that you remain open to new kinds of music, no matter what prejudices you may have.” I might as well have taken out a lighter and swayed with my eyes shut.

  Mac raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. “I see. That’s very diplomatic of you, Ms. Maddox.” He cupped two large hands around his mug and leaned forward in his chair. “Have you been line dancing, then?”

  I choked on my last sip. After a deliberate swallow, I said, “No, um, no. I’ve heard of it, but I wouldn’t know where to start.” I shook my head. “Besides, I’m not sure there are venues for that sort of thing in New York.”

  Mac leaned back in his chair, looking smug. “Crying shame. Well, you’ll have to give it a try before you leave us.”

  I slumped down farther into my chair, wishing I had help with the sag factor. Velour was no respecter of cup size. “I don’t think so, but thank you.”

  “Wait a minute now,” Mac said. “Didn’t you just preach to me about being open to new kinds of music?”

  “Mac,” Jayne said. She pushed him playfully but scolded, “Don’t be a pest.”

  I lifted my chin, concealer-free though it was. “I wouldn’t consider that preaching. And I was intending that to mean perhaps you should look beyond your heartbreakin’, knee-slappin’, hard-drinkin’ repertoire to consider something more high-minded.”

  Jayne stopped clearing the table and stared. Cal stopped tickling the baby and stood still.

  Mac slowly nodded his head, eyeing me with his dark blues. “Well,” he said, and stood. “I surely didn’t mean to offend. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sadie Maddox. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, though apparently not on the dance floor.” He winked but no smile made it past those teeth. “Cal, Jaynie, we’ll see you.” He kissed the baby on the top of her head. “Bye now, sweet girl.” One more nod to me and he was out the door.

  I sat in the kitchen for a few silent moments before thanking Jayne for the breakfast and heading upstairs.

  What a pain in the rear, I thought, mulling over the conversation with Mac. Typical insecure male—can dish it out freely but can’t take it when a woman stands up to all his hyperbole. I sneaked by the boys’ room unnoticed, grateful not to engage in a discussion on the finer points of railroad transportation. Back in my attic, I went straight to the bathroom and started the shower. I docked my iPod on its new little speaker, a consolation gift from Avi before I left. I scrolled through the playlists. “Pre-Mozart Orchestral … Bach … German Art Song … Italian Art Song … Favorite Mezzo Arias …” All right, I thought, so there is somewhat of an overrepresentation of one kind of music. But it’s my job. What I listen to is like market research.

  I stepped into the shower and sang along to Kiri Te Kenawa’s “O Mio Babbino Caro” full voice.

  10

  We Gather Together

  The Hartleys attended Calvary Baptist Church on the west side of town. The building was long and flat, white with a corrugated green metal roof that Cal said made snow removal a breeze. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but tried to act like I did.

  Per the boys’ request and in a moment of goodwill toward their long-suffering mother, who’d already settled six disputes between the front door and the car, I’d sandwiched myself between Drew and Joel in the back seat. Just as we pulled up to the church in the minivan, my phone rang within my purse, which I’d left near the front of the car.

  “Would you mind answering that, Jayne?” I asked, not wanting to risk bodily harm by dislodging myself too abruptly.

  “Hello, this is Sadie Maddox’s phone,” Jayne said, giving me a wide smile and a thumbs-up from the front seat.

  “Jayne Hartley,” she said shyly and then laughed. And blushed.

  Must be Richard.

  Cal pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. The baby started crying and Jayne bolted out of the car, one hand covering her exposed ear to hear better.

  I rolled my eyes. A thousand miles away and over a wireless network—and Richard was still charming.

  “Come on, boys,” Cal said as both side doors rolled open. “Drew, wait for Miss Sadie and then help unbuckle your brother.”

  I pulled myself up and walked folded over like an accordion toward the side door. One endures a great lack of dignity when living with small children.

  Jayne was giggling into the phone. “That sounds nice,” she said. “I will. Okay. Good-bye.” She clicked my phone shut and stood smiling to herself until she saw me standing next to her. “Oh, sorry. Here.” She handed me my phone. “That was Richard,” she said as if they’d just returned from an extended vacation to the south of France. “He says he’ll call later.” She took Joel’s hand and we started toward the front doors of the church.

  I turned my ringer off and let the phone drop into my purse. New pointy-toed stiletto boots gave me an incentive to walk more slowly than normal. Jayne forced Joel to slow his pace to match mine.

  She lowered her voice a notch. “So, is he your boyfriend?”

  “Richard?” I asked. “Goodness, no. We tried that years ago with disastrous results.” A man standing at the front door offered me a church bulletin. “In another life,” I said to Jayne as we entered the foyer, “Richard and I were married.”

  Jayne’s eyebrows shot up into her bangs but she didn’t have a chance to respond.

  “Jaynie!” A plump woman glided toward us. She wore a zebra print turtleneck sweater and a long black skirt. “Helloooo,” she said in a lilting, breathy voice. “You must be Sadie Maddox.” She scrunched up her nose and covered one of my hands in both of her own. “I’m just deeee-lighted to meet you. I’m Norma Michaels, church pianist.” Another nose scrunch.

  “Hello, Norma,” I said, gently withdrawing my hand from its moist cocoon. “Are you playing in today’s service?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, glancing at the wall clock in the foyer. “In fact, I’d better skedaddle. I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other, Ms. Maddox. We music types tend to flock together.” She let out a fluttering laugh that made Joel jump, and then she disappeared through the sanctuary doors.

  “Go on in,” Jayne said. Joel was tugging her toward the Sunday school classrooms. “Cal and I will find you.”

  Only a few open chairs remained in the sanctuary. No pews in the church, just chairs upholstered in the same green as the roof. I found a spattering of open seating near the back and kept an eye out for my hosts. In the meantime, Norma sat at a crotchety-sounding baby grand off to one side of the stage. Whatever she lacked in musicality, Norma made up for in body movement. She lifted, she swirled, she closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. A captivating rendition of “Just A Closer Walk With Thee” rang through the sanctuary but probably not in the way the composer intended.

  Just as the pastor ascended the steps to the pulpit, Jayne scooted in next to me. Cal slid in and put his arm around her while Mac took the seat on the aisle. We glanced at each other. I quickly returned my gaze to the pulpit.

  The pastor, a man with a kind face and horrible shoes, welcomed us to Calvary Baptist and soon gave it over to Norma, who led us in a chorus from the piano. I wasn’t familiar with the song so I didn’t sing, but Norma was woman enough for us both.

  After a lengthy sermon accompanied by an onslaught of PowerPoint slides, we sang a final hymn, “Blessed Assurance,” and were dismissed. Cal and Jayne beelined to pick up their children and I was left with Mac.

  “How are you, Mac?” I asked, my countenance reflecting the serene and open-minded person I was.

  “Very fine, thank you, Ms. Maddox.”

  “You should call me Sadie.”

  “All right. How are you, Sadie?” He waved at some people across the lobby and had not yet looked me in the eye.

  “Fine,” I said, bored already with this man. “Enjoying a warm welcome from the people of Maplewood.”

  Out of the c
orner of my eye I thought I saw him wince. He chewed vigorously on his gum for a moment and looked ready to respond when I saw a flash of zebra coming for us.

  “Mac,” Norma said, her breathy voice dropping an octave. She pulled herself up to her full height. “It’s good to see you.”

  Mac cleared his throat. “Good to see you, too, Norma. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”

  A friend now? I shot him a quizzical look, which he ignored.

  “Oh, we’ve met,” Norma said, laying a hand on Mac’s arm. He shifted slightly and her hand fell to her side. “Ms. Maddox,” Norma turned to me, “I hope you enjoyed the music.” Norma shrugged her shoulders like we were sorority sisters about to dish.

  “I certainly did,” I said. No reason to ruin this woman’s life. “You play beautifully.”

  Mac coughed and then became enthralled with something on the ground by his cowboy boot.

  “Perhaps you’ll be willing to bless us with a song or two while you’re here?” Norma’s eyes grew wide. She had mastered the art of eye shadow layering. At close proximity, I could count four different shades of purple.

  “I’d be happy to,” I said. “Let me get settled in and we’ll talk.”

  She clapped her hands. The zebras trembled. “Wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Mac?” She looked up at him with doe eyes but he was looking at me.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” he said. Then he nodded. “Ladies, have a good Sabbath.” Off he strolled, shaking the hands of people all along his path to the exit.

  Norma watched him and sighed.

  I broke into her reverie of well-tailored jeans. “Lovely meeting you, Norma,” I said. I thought about offering to put in a good word to her line-dancing crush but was sure I’d be of no help. Better for a lady to fight that battle on her own, animal print and eye shadow at the ready.

  Monday morning I was downstairs early. Ms. Ellsworth had promised to be at the Hartleys at 7:30, but I was waiting at the window by 7:15. I tried busying myself with a score Avi had sent that weekend—I was planning to fly back during Moravia’s spring break to perform a chamber concert at St. Bart’s. I’d performed all the pieces before, but I opened the Handel score anyway to pass the minutes before the Camry pulled up.