Unstrung

by Laura Spinella

  Sadly, it was hope that did not survive to fruition.

  Theo flew to California later in the spring to spend time with Sam. He was at his bedside when he passed away on a rainy May morning. I believe both men were grateful for the time together. Sam did not die alone, and while Theo did lose another father, he found solace in simply being there, in the quiet setting of Sam’s bedroom, able to hold his hand and offer comfort in this father’s last moments. It was so very different, perhaps even cathartic, allowing Theo an alternative memory to David McAdams’s death.

  As for myself, there is of course loss, but Sam had been more absent than present in my life, and like all the memories connected to him, I have given it proper context. What you feel for someone at twenty-one is often so incredibly different from what you know and what you need decades later. Sam was a critical component of my past; he shaped my future. I will always be indebted to him for this.

  The Angels happened to be in Boston the day Sam died. Rob and I went to the game in his honor. “So,” I said, the two of us sitting in box seats, the price of which made my eyes bug, “this is Fenway Park?” He laughed and fans around us playfully (I think) jeered as we rooted for the other team—Sam’s team. Miraculously, I made it through all nine innings. Through glassy tears, I observed the Angels closing pitcher, Rob explaining that this would have been Sam’s job. “The game’s almost over,” I said. “They seriously paid him millions of dollars to play for ten minutes?” No wonder the arts are so highly undervalued. But I watched, mesmerized, the pitcher’s frame similar to Sam’s and, at enough of a distance, I could see him. I swear I heard him whisper in my ear: “Watch this pitch, Livy . . . This is what it’s all about . . . Mounting tension and the fate of the game . . . Everything’s in your hands . . . Stare down the batter . . . Steal a glance toward first . . . Check your signs . . . And . . .” From the moans around us and the jubilation of the Angels pitcher, I like to believe Sam had something to say in that win.

  In the Wellesley kitchen, I look at the baby now, who does not stir, not even when a dog barks. A baby gate that we don’t yet need for the baby keeps Harmony—a rescued King Charles spaniel mix—sequestered in the laundry room. I open the gate and he sprints through. The doorbell chimes and Harmony barks again. I shush him—a habit we’ve been working on.

  Amazingly, the baby remains asleep. He is tight-fisted and beautiful, perched in his carrier on the soon-to-be-demolished kitchen counter. The bell rings again, and Harmony and I hurry to the front door; the architect must have forgotten something. I smile at the unexpected presence of Theo, who immediately bends down to greet the dog. We are at the point where a drop-in visit is not surprising. We make our way to the kitchen, where I offer him hot tea. On his ring finger is a shiny wedding band, he and India having just returned from a honeymoon trip to Italy. Rob and I had so many good things to say about our trip, they decided they wanted to experience it for themselves.

  In the kitchen, Theo accepts the tea. As always, he’s awestruck by the baby. We all are—no one more so than Rob. It could have gone a lot of ways, but not unlike my father’s death, Rob has chosen to remain my champion in life. He’s embraced fatherhood with the utmost grace, at Sam’s earnest request, and with my deepest gratitude. Rob has even extended his breadth of responsibility by taking a State Street job with a financial firm, giving up the fast lane of more volatile investments. It appears to be a reliable mix of risk and reward, and mostly with other people’s money.

  Theo and I talk for a bit about his trip, and he says that he and India will bring pictures when they come for dinner on Saturday. He forgot them at Claire’s last Sunday. As for her comeuppance, sometimes it’s best to let nature take its course. Eventually, Theo told her about my existence and Sam’s. Since then, I have watched Claire struggle with the delicate balance of sharing her son. No moment was sweeter than when the groom made a toast at his wedding reception, to both his mothers. Honestly? If Claire’s gritted smile had been any tighter, she would have chipped a perfectly aligned tooth. Living a faultless life is a high bar, and one Claire can gladly keep.

  Theo updates me on India’s master’s program and segues to talk about his Boston Conservatory students. Bo-Co welcomed Theo’s proposal, particularly after he secured his own funding for Braemore students. Sam found the right person to leave his money to, and Theo has worked closely with Rob in determining secure and worthy endowments. In addition to this, Theo oversees a trust, set aside for Jamie’s future. I watch Rob and Theo together, and sometimes I think my son has found a third father. In these instances, my heart flutters, hoping for all our sakes Rob lives to a spry one hundred and five. However far I make it, honoring what Rob has done for me—well, I will never lose sight of it again. As for Theo’s inheritance, his first official contribution was to our charitable orchestra effort, the details of which I proudly shared with him late last winter.

  In turn, Sam and Theo’s generosity allows the Wellesley house to stay in the Klein family, now and in the future. It’s no longer necessary that its value be earmarked as a future asset. My mother will remain here too, just as my father willed years ago. It’s the right thing to do. Theo has no formal relationship with my mother, her illness too far gone to allow her to grasp the complex sudden appearance of a grandson she did not want. When in a room together, she will smile at Theo and he will smile back. Once she said, “You smile just like my daughter.” As only Theo would, he replied, “Is that right? I hear she’s smiling a lot more these days.”

  He is right.

  Sipping his tea, Theo asks if I miss the symphony, which I left months before Jamie was born. Not yet, but maybe one day—when he is older. If I ever do desire a chair again, it won’t be out of demand or spite. It will be because it’s what I want. We both smile at baby Jamie. Rob and I took a cue from David McAdams when it came to names. Rob was adamant about not wanting inherent things to have too much effect on his son’s life. I know he’s right about this.

  Finally the baby stirs. He doesn’t cry but blinks widely into the bright room. Theo draws closer, letting the baby clutch his index finger. He’s too young to produce a smile of recognition, but soon he will smile when he opens his eyes to Theo, to all of us. Theo glances between me and the baby. “He’s grown a lot in two weeks.”

  “Has he?” I say. “I guess you don’t see it when you’re looking at him twenty-four seven.”

  “Probably not.” Theo’s quiet. His face grows contemplative, though he smiles, looking between Jamie and me. “You know, it’s funny. His eyes were so blue when India and I left on our trip.”

  I am cued to the thing I have not yet shared with Jamie’s brother. It’s something Rob and I needed to find our way with first. “Babies’ eye color often changes,” I say. “That’s what all the books indicate anyway.” I walk around to where Theo stands and admire my sons. He’s right. The baby’s eyes are clearly brown—it seems to have happened almost overnight.

  “Liv?”

  “What?”

  “You and Rob, you both have blue eyes.”

  I smile at Theo, who offers a hesitant look. “Interesting,” I say cautiously, “isn’t it?”

  Theo’s brown irises meet the blue of mine. “I’d say so. It, um . . . it kind of makes me think back to an old biology class. The dark color,” he says, looking into eyes that look very much like his. “Two blue-eyed parents can’t produce a brown-eyed child.”

  “Of course they can. It’s just perspective, Theo. Rob agrees—in fact, he insists.” I begin a conversation that will lead to the best-fitting conclusion, something he is sure to understand. “Tell me something, Theo?” I say, scooping the baby from his carrier. “Did David McAdams love you any less because your eyes were brown?”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Readers might be surprised to know how many people it takes to “write” a book. While the words are mine, the Montlake effort goes pages deep, starting with editor Alison Dasho. She’s not only lovely to work with and book
smart, but she is always willing to have a conversation and has a wonderful sense of humor—never underestimate a sense of humor in publishing. Quite simply, she rocks. My sincere thanks to Charlotte Herscher, my developmental editor. She has an incredible gift for interpreting all facets of a story, big and small, and conveying her thoughts and ideas in a way that truly resonates with the author.

  The Montlake team goes on with a huge thank-you to marketing and publicity, especially Jessica Poore, Author Relations—insightful and quick with a reply to any question. Many thanks to copyeditor, Hannah Buehler; she did an exceptional job but was particularly adept at keeping track of my musical references and ultimately doing my math for me. Overall, thank you to everyone at Montlake who plucked a string in Unstrung.

  As always, much appreciation to my literary agent, Susan Ginsburg. It continues to be my privilege to be a part of the esteemed literary agency that is Writers House; thank you to Stacy Testa as well.

  Research for Unstrung took me in many directions, including a tour of the Boston Public Library, Massachusetts General Hospital, and an icy winter trip to the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Sincere thanks goes to Rictor Noren, Chamber Music Faculty at the Boston Conservatory, renowned violinist, and strings educator. His insights were key to shaping Olivia’s talent and bringing into focus the inner workings of an orchestral setting. Gratitude as well to YouTube sensation Jeremy Green. This Berklee College of Music rising star was generous and thoughtful with his musical knowledge and talents. Go watch his videos; you’ll be amazed!

  The professional list continues with Amir Fathi, MD, hematologist-oncologist, practicing in Boston. He graciously allowed me to invade his busy schedule, helping me understand the complexities of myeloid leukemia. Thanks also to Maura Blaney, administrative assistant to Dr. Fathi; she was instrumental in facilitating our communication.

  Unstrung meant another round of calls and e-mails to Jennifer Lehman, Senior Deputy District Attorney, Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. I’m not sure if she cringes or laughs when messages start out “I need to know what the charge would be for . . .” But I’m grateful that she always makes herself available to assist with my characters’ legal woes.

  Much love and appreciation to Melisa Holmes; it made me extremely happy to dedicate this book to her, someone who has always understood all the things that make me a little “unstrung.” Friends and first readers continue with my critique partner, Karin Gillespie—a brilliant writer, who has an exceptional reader’s eye. Her input makes an arduous process not only manageable but hopeful. Special thanks to authors Barbara Davis, Laura Drake, Liz Fenton, Kerry Lonsdale, Ellyn Oaksmith, Holly Robinson, Lori Nelson Spielman and Lisa Steinke. Double special thanks to author Barbara Claypole White for her heartfelt quote of praise and for helping to craft Unstrung’s cover blurb before she read the book—that’s creativity! Steve Bennett, Dan Gusovsky, Laura Essex, members of the Girlfriends Book Club, and the Wednesday night critique group—they all lent a positive vibe during the writing of Unstrung.

  Readers and bloggers! I want to thank readers who have supported my books starting with Beautiful Disaster, and those who are new to my novels since Ghost Gifts. I’ve come to count on so many thoughtful people, who don’t just read my books, but cheer me on during the writing process and go on to make recommendations to friends and book clubs, or tag me in one of those Facebook posts that asks: “What are you reading this weekend?” It’d be too difficult to single anyone out, but please know how much your book enthusiasm and friendship means to me. Bloggers are equally important to every author, and I have benefited greatly from their reviews and reader reach over the years.

  My father did not get to see this book to print; but he left knowing precisely how I arrived at any ability to tell a story—thanks, Daddy. The people at home are always last on this page, but really they’re first. If not for the grounded family I live with—Matt, Megan, Jamie, and Grant—I would never be afforded the opportunity to spend so much time with my imagination.

  BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS

  Clearly, Olivia was greatly affected by her parents, and their expectations for her. Do you think this made her a truly difficult person, or someone who was easily misunderstood by others?

  Who is the most selfish character in the novel? Who is the most selfless and why?

  Who is the most honest character in the novel? Who is the least honest and why?

  Throughout the novel, who or what has the greatest influence over Olivia: Rob, Sasha, Sam, her parents, Olivia’s own emotions, Olivia’s talent, or something else?

  Is there a hero in Unstrung? Would you categorize the novel as a romance?

  Olivia is clearly drawn to different personality traits in Rob and Sam. How does Rob differ from Sam, and was he ultimately the right choice for Olivia?

  Was Olivia justified in her secrecy about Theo? Did you see her actions as deliberate or the unintentional fallout of her chaotic life?

  Do you think that overall Claire was a good mother to Theo? Would he have been a whole different person if Olivia and Sam had raised him?

  Did you agree or disagree with Sasha’s conclusion that what Olivia did years ago regarding baby Theo was brave? If anything, what should she have done differently?

  Later in the novel, Olivia makes this observation, “Even so, I think it’s important to realize what you feel for someone at twenty or twenty-one, it’s so powerful, so intense. It looks magical compared to what comes along at thirty . . . or even thirty-nine.” . . . “It’s a turn youth allows. Everybody gets one. But I don’t know that it’s sustainable—at least not for me.” Do you agree or disagree with the protagonist’s thoughts?

  To what degree is music a metaphor throughout this book? Did the author’s use of Holst’s The Planets help or hinder your understanding of Olivia’s emotions?

  Did you have sympathy for Sam’s confession to Rob about what really happened in the hotel room?

  Did the ending surprise you? Considering the collision of circumstances that take place toward the end of the novel, did Rob and Olivia make the right choices?

  What will happen to baby Jamie in the future? Did Olivia and Rob grow enough as characters to provide a happy and healthy environment for him?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Laura Spinella is the author of the #1 Kindle bestseller Ghost Gifts, soon to be a trilogy. Book two is coming in 2017! In addition to her latest work, Unstrung, she’s penned the award-winning novels Beautiful Disaster and Perfect Timing. She also writes romantic suspense, featuring the Clairmont Series Novels, under the pen name L. J. Wilson. Spinella currently lives in the Boston area with her family, where she can always be found writing her next novel. She loves to hear from readers; visit her at www.lauraspinella.net and www.ljwilson.com.