Playing the Maestro

by Aubrie Dionne

  “Just the other day. Truth be told, she sounded as though you two were still together.”

  “We’re not.” Wolf growled. “I thought I made myself clear.”

  “Sounds like you need to be more firm.”

  Wolf checked his watch. He still had time to call Blake and keep Alda away from the fund-raiser. “I need to go. I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but I have some damage control to do, and if I don’t, Alda may ruin everything I’ve found here.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called you, Wolf. I really thought you two were back together and I didn’t want to get in the way. You know how I feel about her.”

  “I know. I feel the same way.”

  “Good luck.” Finally, he sounded like the Johann Wolf knew. But his brother’s heart-filled voice was little solace compared to the bad news.

  “I’m going to need it.” Wolf ended the call just as the woman behind the desk waved him over. He itched to call Blake, but picking up the centerpiece to the auction was too important and he couldn’t let Alda ruin everything that day. This office harpy wouldn’t wait forever. Wolf shot up and jogged over, switching his brain back to English again. “Is everything set?”

  She gestured toward two large men in the doorway. They held a large wrapped canvas between them.

  “He said you can take it.”

  Wolf hurried the men to his car and stashed the painting in the backseat. He thanked them and jumped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door for privacy as his heart sped and his anger boiled.

  He tried Blake’s number, but he was sent directly to voice mail. This new twist seemed too horrifying to be true. There’s no way he could let her meet Melody. She threatened everything going well in his life. How could Alda assume she was invited after he’d left that last voice mail? Had she not listened to it? Or chosen to ignore it?

  It didn’t matter what he thought. It never had. Everything with her was about getting one step ahead and she thought she could go father if she was with him.

  Not anymore.

  Knowing her, she’d probably charmed the board already and secured a seat at the main table right beside him. Alda had a way of manipulating fate just as much as she did people. Wolf gritted his teeth as he slipped into his car.

  There was one person on this Earth she’d never manipulate again.

  …

  The wedding planner gave Melody a thumbs-up from the back of the garden. Melody changed the music from the bridesmaids “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desire” processional to Pachelbel’s “Canon,” securing her clips to her stand to make sure the wind didn’t blow the sheet music away. She took a deep breath and launched into the opening half notes, hoping the bride started walking soon. During a wedding last year, she played the whole song through three times before the bride got the nerve to show up.

  With only herself to cover all of the parts, the song wasn’t truly a canon. A lot of people didn’t want to pay for the extra players, so she was a one-woman show playing four different parts in an effort to keep the melody going. A belated bride could turn a peaceful Pachelbel into Canon hell.

  Movement from the back of the garden caught her eye as she glanced over the music stand, then back to the notes. A white figure emerged on the arm of an older man in a tux, and Melody increased the volume, pushing to get to the sixteenth note runs in the middle so the timing would be perfect.

  The bride’s face came into view, flushed with joyful bliss and tinged with just the right amount of nervous jitters. Usually Melody felt a nice, warm happiness for them, but today a single pang of jealousy cut straight to Melody’s heart. Would she ever feel like that someday?

  What’s wrong with me?

  Too distracted by her unexpected emotions, she didn’t see the photographer approach. Snapping pictures, he walked in front of her, blocking her view of the bride. Melody moved to the right and left while reading all four parts, struggling to watch the bride’s progress. She couldn’t speak and play at the same time, and the music had to go on. Meanwhile, a furry bee the size of a grape tomato landed on her music stand, crawling across the second page. The wind picked up, rustling the music underneath the clips.

  Just keep playing.

  As the bride passed, the photographer stepped to the right, and Melody caught a glimpse of a pearl-laden white dress reaching the gazebo. Melody skipped four bars ahead and finished in a flourish of arpeggios. Perfect.

  She took a deep breath of relief and sat back in her folding chair. Man, I need a less stressful job. Never did she think she’d have to play twenty-five weddings a year all over New England to pay her electric bills. Finding each secluded location was only half the battle. Dealing with detail-crazed brides, wind, rain, bugs, traffic, and scheduling was the rest of it.

  The justice of the peace held a microphone to her lips. “We are gathered here today to bring together two wonderful people.”

  Melody hadn’t met with them in person because the couple had been too busy, so they conducted all of their business through e-mail. Here was her chance to get a good look.

  The bride beamed with a radiant smile. She had gorgeous blond hair like Laini and a cute button nose. The groom took the bride’s hands in his. He had flowing, deer-brown hair cascading around his ears and sharp, manly features that could have landed him a spot in an underwear ad.

  Melody did a double take. The groom reminded her of Wolf.

  She looked away, feeling foolish. Just because she and Wolf had spent the night on her sofa in their pj’s didn’t mean they were going to get married. Why was she projecting her crazy feelings on the groom?

  She unscrewed the cap to her water bottle and took a sip. Usually, she only listened to the ceremony enough to know when to play the recessional at the end. But seated directly by the gazebo, her ears picked up every word.

  A bridesmaid dressed in a plum explosion of lace took the podium and began reading. “Love hits you when you least expect it and grabs your heart and soul. It is an unbearable urge, a necessity…”

  Melody shifted in her chair, the hard plastic digging into her like cement. Suddenly, she felt as though she lay on display, members of the congregation glancing at her and her empty ring finger like she was on trial.

  The sun’s angle had changed since she’d chosen her spot, and now it beat down on her relentlessly. Melody glanced at her flute in her lap and tucked her hand underneath her arm. She’d always put off love for her career. Now that she’d met Wolf, she started to reconsider her life’s path. What was love, really? Was it that fire she had with Wolf? Or would that burn off over time, leaving nothing left? Sure, they shared music as an interest, but was it enough?

  It’s the sun getting to me, that’s all. Or maybe I’ve just played one too many of these and I need a vacation.

  The truth was, as she sat there looking at a couple her own age, she felt old and stuck in a rut. She’d taken these odd jobs when she graduated, thinking the bohemian lifestyle was temporary, and she’d settle down soon enough. Five years later, here she was, still playing Pachelbel’s Canon while the brides and grooms only grew younger by comparison. Was there a happily ever after for her?

  If so, I have to find it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Star Donor

  Melody slipped into the bridesmaid dress she’d worn to Laini’s wedding ten years ago and breathed a sigh of relief when the silk hung just right.

  Thank the fashion gods the gown still fit. She didn’t have the money for another eye-catcher like this one, and she wanted to wear something to impress Wolf.

  Fabric black as midnight hugged her breasts and hips, while a one-shoulder neckline crusted in tiny rhinestones glittered in the lackluster light of her bedroom. If it shined here, it would sparkle like stars under the chandeliers in the art museum’s main foyer.

  And she’d thought sequins would be good.

  Melody hadn’t worn the dress since the wedding, and she’s considered selling it on numerous occasions when she had
needed a better piccolo or another shipment of sheet music. But a little voice inside her whispered she just might need the extra punch someday. Thank goodness she’d followed her heart instead of her head.

  Melody ran her hands over the sleek fabric. She’d been following her heart a lot lately.

  Like last night.

  It felt so good to hold Wolf in her arms. He was everything she was looking for and then some—her knight in shining armor, or at least with a shining baton. He’d asked her input for the orchestra, taken her to places she’d never been before both physically and emotionally, and even saved her life.

  She knew she couldn’t acknowledge their feelings at the event, but she still wanted to look desirable and this dress more than delivered. Topping off the look with a pearl necklace her mom had bought her for her sweet sixteen, Melody posed and checked herself out. Not bad for a starving musician.

  Melody grabbed her glittery hand purse and shuffled down the steps in her sky-high black heels. She almost crashed into Carly as her friend waited outside her apartment like a street musician hovering on her doorstep.

  Carly wore a flowery bohemian skirt with a buttoned-down silk shirt on top. She wasn’t trapping new boyfriends. As usual, she was dressed to make contacts and drudge up more gigs.

  “You look gorgeous!” Carly’s face brightened, and in that moment, Melody knew her anger had cooled. “Out to steal some hearts, I presume?”

  Steal some hearts? Melody’s face clamped up like a mollusk shell. Were they going to have that same fight again right here, right now? Her mascara couldn’t take the tears. “I’m just trying to look my best.”

  “About the other night…” Carly looked down at her sandaled feet. “I’m sorry I pushed you. It wasn’t my place.”

  Melody’s composure melted. This was her friend of more than fifteen years. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so private lately. It’s just that things are so up in the air right now and it’s best I don’t open my big mouth too soon.” She put a hand on Carly’s arm. “When the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I can wait.” Carly smiled. “I just want us to be okay. You never know when you’ll need a shoulder to cry on, and flutists have great posture.”

  Melody laughed, thinking about all her students and her need to correct what she called crooked-flute disease. “Some of them do. Others, not so much.”

  “Well, you do. You’ve always been there for me, and I want to be there for you, even if you’re keeping your lips sealed.”

  Melody wanted to tell her friend about the attack, but not only would it make Carly feel guilty for having left her to walk alone, she’d also have to tell her about how Wolf had saved her and brought her to the hospital, and took her home. Besides, this was a happy moment, and she didn’t want to spoil it with a bad memory.

  She followed Carly’s silver Volvo to the art museum and parked behind her so they could walk in together. The Fuller Museum of Fine Art dwarfed the other buildings on the street with its massive, stone architecture. Grand flags of red and blue fluttered above them as they climbed the marble steps, passing by replicas of Michelangelo’s David and Strazza’s Veiled Virgin.

  Melody’s love life had been so dull before Wolf, she felt fairly close to a veiled virgin herself. Fingers trailing along the base of the statue’s veil, Melody wondered if that would soon change.

  “Look what they’ve done to the place!” Carly pulled her forward.

  Along the edge, just underneath the paintings, the board members had decorated the museum with glittering lights highlighting auction items interspersed with podiums of musical instruments on display. A single painting of a dash of yellow covered by blotches of silver and black hung at the room’s center as the final grand auction piece.

  “I wouldn’t hang that monstrosity in my apartment if someone paid me.” Carly took a glass of champagne off a server’s plate.

  Melody glanced at the list of bids below it, some higher than her bimonthly paycheck. “Someone wants it.”

  “My goodness. Get a load of this. There’s a lottery for the conductor!” Carly ran over to a glass fish bowl already sporting a pile of names inside it. Melody’s stomach sickened. So many people after Wolf. “What do they get?” Her voice sounded like a frog’s croak.

  “A dance.” Carly took up the pen and started scribbling on the unused pieces of paper. When Melody tried to look over her shoulder, she swatted her back. “None of your business.”

  Melody turned away, pretending not to care. Under her cool composure, her heart burned with jealousy for all those written names. Why didn’t he tell me about this?

  Maybe to Wolf it wasn’t such a big deal. And it wasn’t as though she was his girlfriend, yet. But the question did cut a sliver of doubt in her gut. He’d had all night to mention it.

  “Are we going to find some hors d’oeuvres or what?” Carly tossed the papers in.

  “Sure.” Melody pretended not to notice just how many names Carly had put in the fishbowl. Did she think it would get her more gigs? She was so totally wasting her money.

  While Carly munched on rolls of cheddar and Canadian bacon, Melody glanced around for Wolf.

  Orchestra members interspersed with board members and other donors wearing faux fur, diamonds, silk, and satin in a sea of luxury. Melody had thought her dress was a winner until she saw some of the diamond-crusted gowns and beaded-pearl chemises worn by the higher members of society. Thank goodness she’d opted out of sequins.

  Her heart stopped when she turned her head toward the back of the room and saw Wolf standing in the corner by a metal statue of a sphinx, his face red and his fists clenched at his side. Blake leaned on the wall beside him, his face a mask of propriety. But he couldn’t hide everything under his plastic facade. A vein on his right temple throbbed, and the corners of his mouthed twitched.

  Clearly they weren’t discussing the flowers.

  Melody tensed, practically glaring at them from across the room. What were they arguing about? Had Blake found out about last night?

  …

  “Alda Schuhmacher can’t be allowed access to this event,” Wolf hissed under his breath. “She’ll ruin everything.”

  “I have a hard time believing that,” Blake’s eyebrows creased, “when she’s provided a significant donation to our trust fund in your honor.”

  “In my honor?” Stunned with incredulity, Wolf almost fell over backward. How could he explain to Blake that all her money had been his without looking like a total fool? If this was Alda’s ploy to get him back, it had failed miserably. Or maybe she was throwing her power in his face? With Alda, he could never tell.

  “Precisely.” Blake crossed his arms against his pristine navy suit.

  Wolf struggled to keep his anger from showing. “Listen to me, Blake. She’s not welcome here. She won’t get along with the other donors.”

  “How can you be so sure?” He leaned in. “Exactly how do you know her?”

  Wolf’s tux collar threatened to choke him as perspiration beaded on his forehead. Was it worth going into detail about the sad story of his previous love life?

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw Melody staring at them in confusion from across the room. He had to prevent her from meeting Alda. Not only would she notice the resemblance, but there was no telling what Alda would say to her. Suddenly, he wished he’d opened up more in the car on the way to the Boston Symphony. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to come across as mushy or still hung up on Alda. But if he’d explained his previous train wreck of a relationship, at least Melody would have some sort of warning.

  Blake waited for his answer with a tight-lipped frown.

  Wolf knew Blake enough by now to guess no matter what he said, no matter who she was, the personnel manager would take her money over Wolf’s comfort. She could be an ax murderer for all he cares. Wolf composed himself. “She’s an acquaintance from Germany. Nothing more.”

  “Then you won’t mind her attendance for at
least this evening.” Blake turned and waved to an elderly woman wearing an angora scarf and dangling ruby earrings. “If you’ll excuse me, I have guests to attend to.”

  Panic rose inside Wolf as he scrambled to come up with a way to get Melody alone without anyone taking note of their relationship. He had to warn her before Alda paraded in. Chancing a look across the room, he spotted Melody with the gossipy oboe player eating from a platter of puff pastries. Not the best conversation to interrupt. Carly would definitely think something was up between them.

  A voice cut through the crowd around him. “Let me introduce you to Wolfgang Braun, the new conductor.”

  Wolf turned and Ms. Maxhammer grabbed his arm with her white-gloved hands. She gestured toward a gaggle of old ladies, all dressed in jeweled gowns of varying gaudiness. The conglomeration of their cloying perfumes clogged his throat.

  Ms. Maxhammer waved her arm over her friends. “Nice to see you here, Mr. Braun. May I introduce my good friends.” She leaned in so only he could hear. “And some new prospective donors.”

  Wolf kissed the back of the first hand offered to him. The older woman giggled like a schoolgirl at a rock concert.

  “Nice to meet you ladies.”

  Wolf glanced over to where he’d last seen Melody with the oboe player, but a crowd of donors had just entered the room, blocking his view. Not only that, but he knew he’d have to get through all of them before he reached Melody. “Mrs. Halbot is on the board of trustees for Central Bank, and Mrs. Felstein’s husband is the CEO of Felstein and Associates. She’s donated to this orchestra in the past and has a great urge to reconnect.”

  What a time for this! Everything Wolf had been looking for stood in front of him, and he didn’t have the time to seal the deal. Melody was more important, but if he didn’t secure the orchestra, he couldn’t have a relationship with her. “Wonderful.” He feigned a smile. “I’ll look for both of you ladies throughout the evening. I must take my leave. There is an urgent matter—”

  “Nonsense. What could be more important than great conversation?” Ms. Maxhammer gave him a smile he knew was forced. “Mrs. Halbot tells me she’s visited Germany many times and is interested in where you grew up.”