by Regina Duke
Vicky said, “I had no idea how much effort it takes to run a large house like this until I met Jason.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” said Dolores. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
Vicky smiled.
Mina said, “I can see you two are going to be fast friends. That’s wonderful. Vicky, what’s your costume?”
Vicky’s face fell. “Costume?”
Mina nodded. “What are you wearing to the ball?”
Vicky’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “I have no idea.” She looked down at her black jeans and white ruffled tee.
Dolores eyed her critically. “I’d rather you not go dressed as a waiter, my dear. Bad for the family image.”
Vicky decided Jason was right. In her right mind, Dolores could indeed be sharp with people.
Mina looked her up and down. “I think I have an idea,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring you something to wear.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, darn. Mrs. Darby, I have to get back to the shop. If it’s okay with you, I’ll come in the morning and help you get ready for the day.”
“That would be lovely.”
Mina winked at Vicky. “I’ll see myself out.”
Vicky sat for a few seconds, sipping her tea. She was itching to get back to her keyboard and headphones upstairs, but she didn’t feel she could just leave Dolores to her own devices.
Out of the blue, Dolores said, “Tell me about your family, dear.”
Vicky mentally edited out ninety percent of her personal history and began with, “My mother is a gifted piano teacher. I think she could have been a star, but family matters came first.”
“Indeed? And what’s her name?”
“Elsa Winn.”
Dolores stopped her cup half way to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness! She used to live here in Eagle’s Toe. I took lessons from her!”
“You play?” asked Vicky, as if it were news to her. “I’d love to hear something. Who’s your favorite composer?”
“Beethoven,” said Dolores. “Love the powerful pieces.”
“Come play for me.” Vicky stood and extended a hand.
Dolores set her cup down and took Vicky’s hand, but a moment later the spark left her eyes and she slumped back in her chair. “Oh, no, dear. I never play anymore.”
Vicky sat back down. “Dolores, you do know that the accident wasn’t your fault, right?”
Dolores turned her face away.
Vicky said softly, “You memorialized Thomas and Jill by establishing a piano competition in their names, but you stopped playing because you felt you didn’t deserve the joy of music anymore.”
Dolores looked at her, wide-eyed. “How can you know that?”
“Everyone sees your pain. But no one thinks the accident was your fault. No one.”
Dolores looked suddenly very tired. “I should never have bought that catamaran.”
“Thomas wanted it, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He was going to pick one out for himself, but it was almost his birthday, and I wanted to surprise him. We’d fought about it, you see. It was my way of making it up to him. Letting him know that it was all right for him to go out and have fun. He worked so hard for the family businesses. And I’d scolded him for taking time off during a big negotiation.” She lifted her hands and her fingers shook. “I don’t even remember what the silly deal was all about. But I hurt his feelings. So I wanted to give him a gift.”
“He was thrilled, wasn’t he?”
Dolores nodded. “I have a photo somewhere....”
“Jason showed me. It’s upstairs in Thomas and Jill’s room.”
“I gave him the instrument of his death.” Dolores’ voice went flat.
“No, no, no. You gave him the best present he ever got. If the cat overturned, it must have been the weather, not you. You gave him joy.”
Dolores looked up at her hopefully. “The weather?”
Vicky nodded. “The sea is terribly unpredictable. Jason said a rogue wave washed over them.” She touched Dolores’ hand. “Beethoven would be perfect for expressing how you’re feeling right now. If you thought Thomas would like to be remembered by a piano competition, wouldn’t he love it even more if he knew you were playing every day in his memory?”
Dolores took a breath and straightened in her chair. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Once again, Vicky held out her hand.
Dolores clutched at it and stood up.
****
Jason paced back and forth on the broad curved drive in front of the house, his cell phone pressed to his ear. Mr. Lopes had opened the garage and had two young men vigorously shining Mrs. Darby’s 2008 yellow Rolls-Royce. Every now and then Jason walked clear to the corner of the house and surveyed their progress. The eight-car garage looked pitifully empty to him. But then, as a child, he would have seen his father’s Bughatti, his mother’s 1980 Rolls, the family SUV, his grandmother’s car, and a couple of vehicles belonging to any house guests who might be visiting. He longed to fill that garage again, if not with family vehicles, then with visitors’ cars. It occurred to him that Vicky’s car had been repossessed. As soon as things settled down a bit, he would encourage her to add a car to the garage. He smiled at the thought.
“Yes, Al, I’m here. Just daydreaming. How are things going?”
“I’ve made the initial phone call, sir. She was dubious, but I poured on the charm. She didn’t order me to stay away. I’m driving as we speak.”
“Excellent. Is your vehicle impressive enough?”
Embarrassed silence.
“Al?”
“It’s quite impressive, sir, because it’s not my vehicle.” He cleared his throat. “When Gloria sent me away, rather rudely, I might add, I, well, I borrowed a car from the garage, sir.”
Jason’s eyes lit up. “You didn’t!”
“In my defense, sir, it needed servicing, and the registration was due. And as you recall, that 1980 Rolls is what many people expect a rich man to drive.”
Jason grinned. “I’m thrilled it’s still running. That should impress the socks off her.”
Alistair chuckled. “It’s impressing quite a few of the other drivers on the road as well. And I just had it detailed the other day. Am I forgiven for borrowing it?”
“You may have saved it by taking it,” said Jason. “I don’t see the Bughatti. But it was aging rapidly.”
“When I return, sir, I’ll help you wade through the books. Perhaps we can determine its fate.”
“I’m looking forward to it. You have enough cash?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Play it to the hilt.”
“I will, sir.”
Jason caught a riff of music from the house. His brows met. He kept talking to Alistair as he went inside.
“Remember, I don’t want Vicky to see her until the ball, but I’ll need to meet with her first thing in the morning. I’ll need you here long before that though. I’ve arranged a suite for her at The Cattlemen’s.” He strode through the entry way toward the music room door.
Alistair spoke. “Is everything all right sir? Do I hear Beethoven?”
“Oh, my God. I think I’m witnessing a miracle.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jason said his goodbyes to Alistair and moved closer to the piano. Vicky and Dolores sat side by side on the bench, all four hands busy on the keyboard. They had moved on to a duet. Jason realized that his musical education was greatly lacking. He had no idea what the piece was, but the important part for him was who the players were.
He felt his heart swell as he watched the joy on Vicky’s face. Her concentration was on the music, and he was amazed to see that his grandmother wore a similar expression. Every now and then her fingers would falter or she would hit a wrong note, but Vicky merely slowed her pace for a moment to let Dolores catch up, and they played on.
He sensed movement behind himself, and a quick glance revealed Grace and Mrs. Johnson being drawn in just a
s he was. He smiled and relaxed, leaning against the door jamb, watching them play.
When that piece was finished, Vicky paused to allow Dolores to pick another song.
“This one,” she said, spreading sheet music. “Beethoven’s ‘Allegro Molto’ from Sonata in D, Opus 6.”
At the end of their duet, Jason, Grace, and Mrs. Johnson applauded.
“Beautiful,” said Jason. “Gran, you’re a virtuoso.”
Dolores brushed away his praise. “I’m rusty as hell.”
Vicky burst out laughing.
“You go on,” said Dolores to Vicky. “Go spend some time with your fiancé. I’m just going to exercise my fingers for a while.”
Jason waited for Vicky at the doors to the gallery, then took her hand and led her toward the library wing.
“That was amazing,” he said. “How did you manage to change her mind about the piano?”
Vicky shrugged. “We were just talking. She mentioned the photo you showed me, the one with your father saying thanks for the catamaran. And I convinced her that she had nothing to do with the accident.” She stopped and laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t be surprised if she forgets all about our conversation tomorrow. I remember with my own grandmother, especially as she got older, every day would spring from whole cloth. She would often forget entire conversations. Simple decisions would have to be made over and over again. This may look like a miracle, but it could be fleeting.”
Jason nodded. “I can see that as time goes on, we’re going to need some specialized help.”
Vicky squeezed his arm. “She’s so lucky that your family has the money to take care of her. It was pretty rough when I was a kid. Looking back, I can see how hard my mother struggled. No wonder her piano career was cut short.” She stopped and put a hand to her mouth. “Dolores said she took lessons from my mother when we lived here in Eagle’s Toe!”
Jason pressed a hand gently into her back, moving her forward again. “It’s very likely. My mother once told me the piano was a process, something you studied your whole life, not just something you could learn and be done with. Hmph. Maybe that’s why I let myself believe that she was the musician, not Gran.”
“She was probably quoting Dolores. It certainly sounds like something she would say. By the way, where the heck have you been for the last hour? What are you up to?”
Jason finally had her inside the library. He turned and quietly closed the door, then slipped an arm around her waist and drew her close.
“I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are. And how hot you look when you’re playing the piano. And how lucky I feel at finding you when I did.” He moved her with him, a slow waltz to a silent inner orchestra. “Your hair is lovely.” He ran his fingers through it. “Your patience with Gran is stunning. And how come you smell so delicious?” He nuzzled her neck.
Vicky’s breath caught at the touch of his lips on her collarbone. “Should we be parading our engagement in front of the staff?”
“No one in here,” mumbled Jason. “Besides, we’re not parading. We’re waltzing.”
Vicky moaned.
“Was that a moan I hear?”
Breathily, she replied, “Nonsense. Libraries are a No Moan Zone.”
Jason let the tip of his tongue trace a line from collarbone to ear.
Vicky gave a small cry.
Jason chuckled, a deep throaty sound. “I think the other side of your neck is jealous.”
Vicky’s voice trembled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
Jason nuzzled the other side.
Vicky melted against him.
Jason’s phone rang. He groaned.
The spell was broken, and Vicky stepped away, busily straightening her clothes.
“Sorry,” said Jason. He looked at his phone. “It’s Dee. I’d better see what she needs.”
Vicky nodded, apparently not trusting her voice.
Jason parked his bottom on an overstuffed chair. “Hello, Dee. What’s up?”
****
Vicky stood awkwardly by as Jason launched into a series of problem solving volleys with Dee. After cooling down a bit, she felt the need to discuss what had just happened with someone in a cool and rational manner. How could this be? How could she be falling in love with her fiancée?
She stifled a giggle. That sounded ridiculous. She couldn’t have Jason thinking she was laughing at what had just happened between them, so she wiggled her fingers in a silent good-bye and sidled toward the door.
Jason made an apologetic face and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Then he returned to the phone and his attempt to calm Dee’s concerns.
Vicky left the library, carefully closing the door to give Jason privacy. She’d be glad when this silly party was over with. Maybe then they could address the feelings that were growing between them. She needed someone to talk to. She needed Madlyn!
But Madz was at work. Maybe she could chat for a moment. Didn’t salesgirls get breaks? She pulled her phone out of her pocket and ambled down a hall toward the front of the house. On the floor above were the bedrooms occupied by Jason and his parents before they died. But she hadn’t been down this main floor corridor. She walked slowly, wondering what these rooms were used for. She thumb dialed Madlyn and put the phone to her ear as she tip-toed into an inside room. All the furniture was covered with white sheets. The light was pale, coming through windows high on the inside wall. She realized those windows must be in a wall shared with the front parlor. It kept the room from being pitch black. As she listened for Madlyn to pick up, she located a light switch and flipped it on.
She was in a nursery. The walls were decorated with cartoon characters, and a peek beneath the nearest sheet revealed a toddler-sized table and chairs. It was a large room with plenty of space for little ones to run and play. Her heart ached as she realized that Jason’s parents were undoubtedly planning on having more children. Then her mind raced ahead to the fantasy of her own children playing there someday.
Madlyn interrupted with a brusque, “Yeah, what’s up?”
Vicky pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. “Madz? Is that you?”
“Oh, Vicky! Sorry. That’s my work voice. Guess what? Mina just promoted me to manager! Isn’t that awesome?”
“Totally! I’m so happy for you. Will you get a raise?” Vicky asked, careful not to let on that she already knew about Mina’s plans.
“Yes, a big one! And Mina said she’s going to be busy in the mornings, so I’ll be opening the shop and handling the scheduling and everything. She said I could call her if I had any questions, but in reality I’ve already been doing all that for weeks. It’s like she was teaching me everything I needed to know in order to be manager. Isn’t that great?”
“Yes. Beyond great. I’m so happy for you.”
“And I’ve been on the phone twice today with the insurance company about getting the house repaired. That’s all working out.”
“Did you call your parents yet?”
“Eek. No. I’m hoping to get it all taken care of before they get home.”
“Will the insurance company call them?”
“No. My agent is local, and they all know me, and they know my folks. They promised they’d give me a heads up if they have to talk to mom and dad. What’s happening with you and Jason?”
Vicky found an adult-sized chair to sit on. “That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to fill you in. We signed the papers today. The lawyers called it a prenup.”
“Sure. You’re getting married, right? It’s the agreement governing your financial arrangement before marriage. A prenuptial agreement.”
Vicky took a breath. “Yes. Well.”
Madz spoke to someone at the shop. “No, no, put those on the other rack. And it’s time to put those fancy masks next to the cash register.” Her voice grew louder. “Sorry, Vicky. We’re crazy busy today.”
Vicky sagged on the chair. “Oh. I guess we can talk later.”
After a second of sil
ence, she heard Madz tell someone, “I need to take a break. Be back in ten.” Then to Vicky, “I know that tone of voice. What’s going on?”
Filled with gratitude, Vicky said, “I think I’m falling in love with Jason.”
“Well, duh. You’re going to marry him. Isn’t that part and parcel of the whole getting married idea?”
“But Madz, this was supposed to be a job, remember? A way to help my mother and pay for my piano competitions.”
“So? Can’t you have love and money at the same time?”
“It’s just so unexpected. I was thinking of him as a boss, not a boyfriend.”
“You liar. We talked about how hot he is, remember? I saw more than a flicker of interest in your face when he was around.”
“Really? You don’t think I’m crazy? Or just trying to convince myself because I’m going to be marrying him anyway?”
“Well, how does he feel about it?”
Vicky blushed, all alone in the nursery. “He practically ravished me in the library.”
“Excellent!”
“Madz!”
“That means he’s hot for you, girl! That’s a good thing. If you’re going to marry a billionaire, trust me, it’s much better if he actually cares about you.”
“I guess so. But things are happening so fast. That’s not the only thing that’s changed since Monday.” She reached out and lifted another sheet to reveal a perfectly preserved baby carriage from another era, with a collection of elaborately dressed baby dolls inside.
“Well? Are you going to make me guess? I’ve got about five minutes before I have to get back to work.”
Vicky picked up the chubbiest doll and cradled it in her arms. “Don’t tell my mother,” she said, “but I don’t think I want to live a musician’s life.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“Are you out of your mind?!” Madlyn’s voice was so loud, Vicky almost dropped her phone. “You’ve prepared your whole life for a career with your piano.”
“Yes, but not for the life that goes with it. You know how sick I get before a performance. How awful that is. Well, imagine leaving everything you love and traveling constantly, so you can be sick with fear for hours every day before a performance, then go on stage and play your heart out and try to be entertaining, and then spend the night in a hotel and get up the next day and travel to your next concert.”
