The old days? How unfair they couldn’t play together. A world tour with her as the opening act for her teacher? It would have been splendid to be on the same stage as Nathaniel Fye. The same stage? Yes, that was it. And in that moment an idea came to her that seemed too grand and yet obvious all at once. In her excitement the words tumbled out before she could censor or evaluate the validity of the idea. “When I was in college I performed several duets with other students for recitals. One was a Mozart sonata. It was scored for four hands, and we found it difficult because one hand performed the melody while the other three hands provided accompaniment.”
“Yes, it’s difficult to get the balance right.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for three hands? One hand plays the melody while the other two provide the accompaniment?”
His eyes widened. “For three hands?”
“Why not? If in combination we can play as one, with three hands we could play a duet.”
His brow wrinkled, and it seemed as if he might dismiss the idea altogether. Seconds clicked by, and she could see him evaluating and then considering the possibility. Finally he spoke, casually, almost offhand. “I might take a look at the Mozart, see if it could work for three hands. It would be difficult. The music would have to be completely re-scored.”
“Yes, but it could be done, couldn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Yes, but this is not in our course work for the summer, Lydia.”
“Well then, you’ll have to take care of it yourself. I have the Brahms B-flat to work out.”
Chapter 44
Nathaniel
* * *
The next morning, Nathaniel waited for Lydia on the cement bench outside the music building. The campus was quiet, resident life unfolding lazily within the dormitory walls. But Lydia, with her ferocious energy, had insisted they begin their tutoring session early so they might have time for the Mozart. Nathaniel had worked long into the still and sultry night until the arrangement was complete.
She came out of her residence hall, walking briskly with long strides, as she always did, straightening her hat, probably too impatient to have bothered securing it with pins. She spotted him and waved, her steps slowing for a moment before she continued her brisk pace. “Good morning.”
“I’ve a surprise for you.”
She looked taken aback. “Really?”
“Yes, in my office.”
“Close your eyes,” he instructed outside his office. She did so, and he opened the door, guiding her in with his hand on her elbow. “All right. Open now.”
She gasped. “Oh, Nathaniel, how wonderful.”
There were two upright pianos side by side, taking up almost the entire room. “For us,” Nathaniel said. “To work on the Mozart. I had the janitors move it in yesterday afternoon. And I finished the Mozart arrangement.”
“How did you finish it so quickly?”
“I couldn’t sleep so I worked into the night.”
“Well, it’s best to get up and get something accomplished, I suppose.”
“If you say so,” he said with a smile.
And suddenly she lurched forward, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing. “I’m so happy.”
He stumbled backward, his arms stiff by his sides. She immediately moved away.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “We can work on the Mozart, after I hear your scales and the B-flat. I feel terrible pangs of guilt over this whole business.” He looked at the pianos. “But, Lydia, to play again. The seduction is too great.”
“To play with you, Nathaniel, is one of the thrills of my life. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Enough of that. Time to get to work.”
An hour later, Nathaniel yawned and rubbed his eyes.
“Are you tired?” Lydia pulled her hands from the keys and scrutinized him. “Or am I boring you?” She smiled.
“What? No, no.”
“Let’s do the Mozart.”
“This is supposed to be your session, not our session.”
“I’ll work more on the Brahms later today. I promise.”
“Fine.”
Before they began, Lydia excused herself to use the ladies’ room. While she was gone, Nathaniel looked over the Mozart arrangement until he heard rustling at the door. It was Walt! Thinner and with a hairline that had moved back an inch, but his eyes were the same: piercing, ever watchful.
“Professor, I have a question about my exam.” Walt spoke in a high-pitched voice.
“I’m sorry, we only allow pretty girls at this school.” They laughed, embracing. “What are you doing here?” A surge of happiness rushed through him at the sight of his old friend.
“Had some business close by and figured I’d come on over and see you.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Hard to believe you’re here. I was going to write to you today. I have a student I want you to meet. Could be a potential client for you.”
“That right? Pianist?”
“Yes. We have a session this morning, but maybe you could come back and we could have lunch. Get reacquainted.”
“Sure. Great. I have some things to do anyway.”
“It’s awfully good to see you, Walt.”
“You too,” said Walt. “You too.”
Shortly after Walt left, Lydia returned. Without a word, they sat at the twin pianos. They looked at one another and took in a collective breath, centering in the other. And they began to play. An hour escaped without their knowledge.
“We’ve almost got it,” he said.
“I would say so,” said Walt from the doorway. “Bravo.”
Nathaniel jumped. “Walt, I didn’t see you there.”
Walt came over to Lydia and offered his hand. “I’m Walt Higgins. Used to manage Nathaniel.”
“Nice to meet you.” She stood. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All highly exaggerated, I’m sure,” said Walt.
“Only the good parts,” said Nathaniel.
Nathaniel and Walt walked across campus and then crossed Oak to Main Street. It was hot already, hinting at the stifling late afternoon heat that would settle in over the town like a greenhouse.
“Who is she?” asked Walt.
“Came to me through my summer composition program. Walt, she’s remarkable.” He pointed at the diner. “This all right with you?”
“Sure.”
Inside, fans suspended from the ceiling on either end of the room moved hot air that smelled of coffee and grease and bleach around the room. In addition to a scattering of tables, four booths lined one wall. A well-dressed, white-haired couple sat in the second booth, eating fried chicken and butter beans. In the booth near the back, four young men played cards and sipped coffee. Out of work, Nathaniel thought.
The owner, an older man with a hump and shuffling feet, came forward to greet them and sat them in one of the middle booths. They both ordered fried chicken with a side of collard greens.
“My God, it was eerie, walking in and hearing that music,” said Walt. “Would have sworn on a Bible it was you.”
“I believe she could have a serious career. I have her working on the Brahms B-flat.”
Walt nodded. “I noticed the size of her hands. Can she really play it?”
He smiled. “She might be better than I was.”
“Not a chance.”
“Needs several months’ more work, but I think it could be concert worthy. You want a new client?”
“Maybe. But tell me more about this duet business.”
“It was her idea we play three-handed. So I put the Mozart together for us.” He kept his voice light, not wanting to betray the depth of his feelings for both the woman and the musician. But he felt himself growing hot. “Just for fun. Mostly we’re concentrating on the Brahms.”
Walt leaned forward, slapping his hand on the tabletop. “This is pure gold, Nathaniel. You playing again. We could book the two of you all over the world.”
“No, no. Lydia has the talent to go all the way on her own. This three-handed thing is just a lark for the summer. I don’t want to hold her back.”
“A lark? Damn, it’s inspirational, and we need that in these times.”
“What? No. I have Frances to think of—can’t be traipsing around on a tour. This is not a discussion about a three-handed duet. Matter of fact, I’d like to see Lydia study at Rochester, up with Hanson.”
“Why not here, with you?”
“She needs the best.”
“You’re the best.”
Nathaniel shrugged. “I hear Hanson’s got the best music program in the country.”
Walt surveyed him with those eyes that never missed anything. “This Lydia Tyler got some kind of hold on you?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Nathaniel kept his voice even.
“You in love with her?”
Nathaniel let several seconds go by in silence before quietly answering, surprising himself by telling the truth. “Yes.” There it was. Yes. He loved Lydia Tyler. He hadn’t fully admitted it to himself. He never could lie to Walt.
“You haven’t acted on it?”
“Of course not. I’m married.”
“Ah, yes. Frances.” He adjusted his glasses, gazing into his drink. “How is Frances?”
“The same.”
Walt scrutinized him with his eyes half closed and then made an all-knowing type of sound in his throat. “You worried you’ll weaken, give in to temptation? Is that why you want Lydia to study with Hanson?”
Nathaniel gazed up at the ceiling and slowly nodded before looking back at his friend. “She’s all I think about.”
* * *
Neither man spoke for several minutes. Finally Walt leaned forward in his chair. “This three-handed duet could change your life, Nathaniel. It could give you back so much of what you lost. Do you understand that? Don’t dismiss it too easily in the name of propriety. You’ve got to seize what’s given to you on this earth. Anyway, all the great artists have mistresses.”
“I was raised a God-fearing man, Walt. You know that.”
Walt sighed. “Ah, yes, there’s that.”
Later that evening, after he drove Jeselle to Bess’s, Nathaniel arrived home weary, ready for an early bedtime. But as he approached the back door, Frances swung open the screen, her face animated. “There you are.” She wore a yellow dress in material that clung to her jutting hipbones, and her eyes had the feverish look they took on when she was in one of her manic moods.
“Darlin’, hurry on in, we’ve got company.”
“Company?”
Frances, hands fluttering, whispered, “Doctor Landry and his brother are here. You know, the brother.”
“Terrific,” he muttered under his breath, following his wife into their sitting room.
Dr. Landry lounged in the armchair, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. As Frances made introductions, the brother stood and held out his hand to Nathaniel. “Michael Landry, but everyone calls me Mick.” He flashed a broad smile that Nathaniel assumed was meant to be charming but gave him a shiver up his spine instead. Mick wore a well-draped, white linen suit over his tall, slim frame. Handsome, thought Nathaniel. Too handsome for his own good.
Nathaniel poured a whiskey and sat in the other armchair.
Frances and Mick sat on the couch. She had her legs placed so that one was angled toward Mick, with a slight hike of her skirt to show an inch or so of her thigh.
Mick took a drink from his whiskey, directing his gaze toward Nathaniel. “Your wife tells me she’s interested in being in the pictures.” His voice had a melodious quality and accent that reminded Nathaniel of someone from the radio.
“Yes.” Nathaniel leaned back in the armchair and cocked his head to the left. Frances touched the tips of her fingers down her own arm and shifted slightly so that her dress moved several inches up her leg. Mick’s eyes traveled to her thigh, and he licked his bottom lip before moving his gaze back to her face.
Nathaniel sat forward in his chair, his voice a decibel too loud. “Frances, perhaps you might fetch some pecans from the kitchen for our guests.” He took a swig of whiskey, the liquid causing a fire down his throat.
Mick put his hand on his stomach. “I couldn’t eat a thing. Ralphie and I ate before we came.” He glanced at Dr. Landry. “Lord have mercy, I forgot how y’all fry everything out here.” He spoke with a hint of an Alabama accent now. He chuckled, finishing his whiskey. “After a couple of whiskeys I start to sound like I never left.”
“Oh, it sounds awfully nice.” Frances turned toward Nathaniel as her hand caressed the outside of her bare leg. “Darlin’, they were just passing by, and luckily I saw them on the sidewalk and invited them right in for a drink.” She shifted her position so that she was more in the direction of Mick, and Nathaniel caught a glimpse of her panties, knowing that Dr. Landry from his position in the room would have as well. Nathaniel felt the pulse in his neck quicken.
“Frances, your dress.” Nathaniel made the tone of his voice the same low and dead calm quality that he knew intimidated his students.
She held up her hands and pretended to look down at her lap in surprise. “Oh mercy me, excuse me, gentlemen.” Laughing with a shrill tinkle, she tugged at her dress, managing to make it look attractive and flirtatious by crossing her legs at the same time. “I guess the drinks are going right to my head.”
“What do you do in the movie business, Mick?” Nathaniel asked, keeping his tone cold.
Mick’s neck flushed red above the collar of his white shirt. “I’m here and there, working for different studios. I’m a little between jobs right at the moment.”
Dr. Landry cleared his throat. “You got another whiskey for me, Professor?”
Nathaniel rose from his chair and poured the doctor another tumbler of whiskey, setting the glass decanter down hard enough that the table shook. With his back to his guests, Nathaniel spoke to Mick, “You have any power out there in Hollywood, Mick? Why don’t you just tell us straightaway so my wife can pull down her goddamned dress?” As much as he tried to control his voice there was a slight tremor to his words.
He turned to see Mick squirming as he stammered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, “I, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?” He spoke through clenched teeth now. “Because there’s no telling what she’ll do for a part, so if you have any power, I’d use it, if I were you.”
Frances’s eyes widened, and she stared at him open-mouthed. Nathaniel took a deep breath and looked at the floor.
Dr. Landry set his empty glass on the table. “It’s getting late.”
Mick jumped from his chair as well. “Yes, thank you for your hospitality.”
Nathaniel held up his hand. “You didn’t answer the question. What can you do for my wife?”
Dr. Landry put an arm on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Take it easy, Fye.”
“No, I want Mick here to tell my wife the truth about what he can do for her.”
Mick ran a hand through his hair. “Like I said, I’m kind of between studios right now.”
Nathaniel turned to Frances. “Did you hear that, Frances?”
Frances’s eyes were sparkling like an excited child’s. “Don’t get all riled up, darlin’. We’re just having a few laughs. My husband finds fun so tedious.”
Dr. Landry cleared his throat again. “I think we best be on our way.”
“Professor, thanks for the drinks,” said Mick.
Nathaniel merely nodded as the two brothers left his house. Without another word to Frances, he went to his room and slammed the door behind him.
The next morning, he found a note from Frances saying she would be gone all day, doing “woman things.” Relieved that she would be away, he drove out to get Jeselle and then stopped at the inn and then the campus to pick up Whit and Lydia so they might talk through the logistical details about France.
“The ocean liner leaves for
France in a couple of weeks. Nathaniel will cover the passage,” said Lydia, after they were all settled in the front room.
“Thank you, Nate,” said Whitmore.
Lydia pulled from a French-English dictionary from her purse. “Try to learn as many words as you can between now and then.”
“I have money to get you started, too,” said Nathaniel. Relief flooded Whitmore’s face. Nathaniel scooted to the edge of the piano bench. “I have an old friend I met in music conservatory who now lives in Paris. He’s rich and will let you stay for several weeks until you can find a place to live. Whit, you might try and do portraits, and Jes, you can find work as a cook or maid. I guess. Maybe. Actually, I don’t know.” He looked at Lydia for help. “What do they do with the baby?”
“It will all work itself out,” said Lydia. “One day at a time.”
Nathaniel heard a sound in the doorway. Frances stood there, watching them like a cat that’s trapped her prey. Blood rushed to Nathaniel’s head as he jumped to his feet. Jeselle moved away from Whitmore, but it was too late. Frances knew.
After the initial look of shock on her face, Frances put her hand on her throat, shaking her head and fluttering her eyelids like she might faint. Nathaniel rushed to her side. “Come sit.”
She stumbled as he guided her to a chair. She looked at Whitmore. “This is going to kill Mother.”
Whitmore’s face was stony. “I can’t think about that right now.”
“How could you?” Frances whispered.
Whitmore leapt to his feet, shouting, “How could I? After all you’ve done to disgrace Mother and Father, you question me?”
Frances made a choking sound as if she were gagging. She indicated with a tilt of her head toward Jeselle, “They’re not even clean. They’re not the same as us. And a baby?”
Lydia moved to sit next to Jeselle, taking her hand. Frances turned to Lydia. “What are you doing here? This is a family matter.”
“She’s helping us,” Whitmore said.
Lydia looked at Frances levelly, her voice calm and assured. “I notice, Frances, that you’re awfully self-possessed this afternoon. When are your fake hysterics going to begin? I’d like to know so I can leave before the playacting starts.” Nathaniel heard himself gasp.
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