“He seemed unimpressed,” Sophie said mildly, remembering the German’s scowl and rude words in the middle of her audition. She spoke a little German, enough to know he thought she should not be trying to play “man’s music” and that she’d be better off using her breasts to feed babies, but she kept that to herself.
Henry sighed. “Becker’s a misogynist and a fool. He wishes he were Bulow or Erdmannsdörfer, but they have more talent each in their little finger.”
Sophie didn’t know what to say to this apt assessment of the disagreeable conductor.
“In any case, it doesn’t matter,” Henry continued. “He’s gone.”
“Gone? Where?” Sophie asked.
“Back to Germany, I believe.”
Sophie bit her lip thoughtfully as an idea sparked. “Perhaps I should audition again for the San Francisco Symphony.”
“You just did,” Hadley told her.
Charlotte clapped her hands, apparently delighted by the surprised look Sophie was certain she was wearing. “And how did my sister-in-law do?”
“Splendidly. You’re in,” he said. “That is, if I can pry you away from Boston to come west with me. It’s hard to leave your family, I know. Mine’s all here, too.”
“Oh my goodness, yes. When do we leave?”
*****
Thus Sophie found herself on another long train trip heading west in the delightful company of Henry Hadley, who was as eager as she to get to San Francisco, and his brother Arthur, an accomplished cellist, among other musicians rounded up by Henry. Sophie decided they were the merriest group of passengers on the train.
When not discussing music, she spent every waking moment reading The Letters of Miska Hauser, about all his music-related travels in San Francisco and was determined to look up all the places he mentioned. She kept track of the rails—New York Central, Michigan Central, Rock Island—until finally, they were back on the great Union Pacific railway. Then, it seemed no time at all before she was stepping off the train in Alameda, California, and boarding El Capitan ferry.
She had telegrammed Carling and, bless her heart, she and Egbert met the ferry at the dock in San Francisco. The girls squealed in delight and even Egbert threw his arms around them both.
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” Carling fairly sang her name. “I’m so happy you’re back. Aren’t I, Egbert?”
“She is. And so am I.”
“Oh, smell it,” Sophie says. “It smells like home to me now.”
Carling laughed. “It smells like fish, but come on. Let’s get you settled. Oh,” she stopped short as a group of men gathered behind Sophie.
“These are my fellow travelers and symphony musicians,” Sophie proudly announced. “Henry Hadley, our conductor, and Walter, Septimus, Samuel, Seifert, Brooks, Adolph, Jean, Edourd, and Arthur, Henry’s brother.” She paused. “Who are we missing?”
Another man wandered over carrying a trumpet case. “And Otto. These are my good friends, Carling and Egbert.”
“Are you all staying at The Palace?” Egbert asked.
“No,” said Henry firmly, amongst groans.
“Some flea bag, then,” muttered Samuel.
“The directors of the San Francisco Symphony are putting us all up in rooming houses near the hall.”
Egbert wrinkled his nose. “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you can all come to The Palace for tea.”
“Oh, yes,” Sophie agreed. “We’ll meet up again tomorrow. Perhaps 2 pm?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all said in turn, except Henry.
“Sophie, this isn’t all fun and games. We have hard work to do and fast.”
“Oh, I know Henry. And I can’t wait.” They started walking to the trams. “We will be the best symphony the world has ever seen.”
The one named Seifert chuckled.
“What? You don’t think so?” Sophie asked him.
“Mayhap, Miss Sophie, but let’s first try for the best that California has ever seen.”
“Agreed.”
She was so happy to get her room back at The Grand, at least for a short while. After gingerly hugging her in the middle of the lobby in broad daylight, Freddie Vern smiled. “I shouldn’t even let you have one free night, not after cutting out on me the way you did.”
“Freddie,” Sophie protested. “I thought I was getting married.”
“Well, don’t do it again,” he said and laughed. But then he added, “You know, you’ll have to find a place to rent. I can only let you have the room for a week, unless you want to start paying or playing piano for me again,” he finished with a teasing look.
“You know I can’t play in your bar anymore.” She tried to sound sad but couldn’t contain the wide grin.
“I know, and I’m thrilled for you. I’ll be there on opening night. Besides, I’ve found a replacement. From that piano school you told me about. Lovely girl.”
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows at his enthusiasm.
“Not as lovely as you, Sophie,” he amended, “nor half as good on the piano. Still, Catherine has a nice way about her, as you did. The customers are warming to her.”
Sophie had an inkling that the customers weren’t the only ones warming to the lovely Catherine, by the look on Freddie’s face.
“Well, I shall come downstairs tonight and listen to her.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to sit with you,” he said, leaving her at her door.
She hesitated, then turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. At the familiar smell of the room, beeswax and lemon, and the vision of the small bed with its crisp white spread, certain memories, never far from the surface, flooded back. She caught her breath at their powerful hold on her. In an instant, she was back in Riley’s arms, all fervent desire, demanding to be satisfied. She could almost feel his touch, his lips.
“Whew,” she breathed out. It had been unforgettably wonderful, and she had to admit, she’d been beyond happy, downright relieved, to give the man her virginity.
If only she hadn’t given him her heart!
Chapter Nineteen
“Oh, my God!” Riley jumped up from the dining table, astonishing not just the other medical students with whom he was eating but the other occupants of the restaurant, as well. He didn’t even notice their stares. Clutching the latest edition of the San Francisco Chronicle in his hand, he tore out of the restaurant.
It was already 6:45 on Friday night. He jumped on the next Market Street cable car heading for The Embarcadero. Getting off just before The Grand, Riley paused to glance at the building, thinking of his last time there, and Sophie’s incredible gift of herself. He’d taken it selfishly, never dreaming he’d get a chance to make it up to her.
Turning onto Kearney, he ran the next four blocks until he stood in front of the Sherman Clay piano store. He rattled the door. Locked. Of course it was locked! He’d wasted precious time and was about to turn away when, seeing a light on in the back, he rattled the door again more forcefully. A few moments later, he saw an older gentleman with a moustache walking toward him. Slowly, he undid the locks and even more slowly opened the door.
“Sir, we are closed.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” Riley said, feeling desperate, “but I need a ticket, no, a season pass for the symphony, for tonight’s show. And all the rest.”
“You should have gone directly to the box office at the hall.”
“Right,” Riley said, looking down at his shoes, then he looked back up. “But in the Chronicle, it said—”
“I know what it says in the Chronicle, young man, but that refers to before closing time. Besides, it’s opening night, sold out, you know.”
“But it can’t be. I’ll pay anything.” Then he had an idea. “Wait, you must be going. I’ll buy your seat. I’ll pay you double what it’s worth, triple, anything you want.”
Riley marveled at his own rashness. After all, he had a limit to his funds, but the thought of seeing Sophie play at the concert hall. He still couldn
’t believe she was here, but it was printed right there in black and white. He opened the paper again.
Miss Sophie Malloy, pianist.
Not Sophie Wainright! She was most definitely not in Cambridge, nor the wife of a philosophy professor.
He realized he’d said her name out loud when the man smiled. “She’s playing on one of our Weber’s tonight. Concert grand, rosewood case.” And the older gentleman stepped aside holding the door open. “Maybe you’d better come in.”
*****
Sophie decided on her pale cream gown. It would show well against the rich wood of the piano and her own dark hair. Her hands were steady as she smoothed the fabric and reached for her gloves. She’d prepared a lifetime for this moment, and no small amount of training had taken place in the last two months since returning to San Francisco. They’d rehearsed daily and finally, tonight, they would show the patrons what they were capable of—Beethoven. Tomorrow, Wagner.
Backstage, Henry was everywhere at once, moving quickly, speaking faster, and delivering last-minute instructions to everyone. He looked dashing in his tailcoat but the effect was spoiled by the way he kept running his fingers through his hair, ruining its smoothness and making it stand straight up on top.
She put her hand on his arm at one point. He jumped.
“Fear not, Sophie, you’ll be splendid.”
She smiled. She was blessed with no stage fright at all, but didn’t like to boast. She relied on the fact that she was utterly prepared.
“Henry, we will all be splendid. Now, you must get in position. You’re going to make a speech, remember?”
“My speech!” He patted down his pockets, then sighed. “Right here. Yes, I’m ready.”
“Of course you are,” she said and moved away to her side of the stage. Then she heard the applause begin as Henry walked out onto the stage in front of the curtain. Behind it, they all took their places at their instruments; those who weren’t nervous gave smiles all around. She saw Otto run back off stage to throw up, as he’d done during the dress rehearsals all week. James, the stage manager, kept a bucket ready and Otto was back in his chair in less than thirty seconds.
A few minutes later, she heard the applause again and then, at last, the red velvet curtain parted. The lights were already down in the theater and Sophie could see nothing but the occasional glowing tip of a man’s cigar. They began at once under Henry’s magnificent conducting. After the first song, the lights came up and Henry introduced the principal musicians.
Sophie nodded when he said her name and looked toward the audience. Her slight smile froze.
In the front row, only feet away from her sat Riley. Then the house lights went out. She hadn’t had time to see if Eliza sat beside him. As they started again, she nearly missed her first cue, which annoyed her tremendously.
When the lights came on at intermission, his seat was empty. Puzzled, she found herself scanning the aisles and then went backstage to drink a cup of tea with the rest of the orchestra. Later, after the performance, they would switch to champagne, but Sophie was already feeling lightheaded by the excitement of opening night combined with the surprise of seeing Riley.
That he should show up in the front row and then leave the seat vacant was beyond aggravating.
Another hour later, after they’d all stood and bowed, the curtain closed for the last time. Exhausted, the orchestra nonetheless was jubilant. If the insistent demand for an encore, which they’d happily given, was any indication, then the evening had been a rousing success. She’d noticed Riley’s still empty seat, starting to think she’d imagined seeing him.
Sophie ran to Henry as he came backstage.
“You were brilliant. We all were,” she said, so proud to be part of this young orchestra.
“We were, weren’t we? We had them! Could you feel it?” he asked referring to the audience.
“Ludwig had them,” Sophie said, grabbing a glass of champagne that came by on a tray. “Tomorrow, Wagner will.”
“Sophie,” James said to her, “there’s a man to see you, stage right.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking a gulp of champagne, then wishing she hadn’t. Then she took another one and handed James her empty glass. She made her way to the side of the stage, hugging her fellow musicians along the way. It had been even better than she’d imagined. And now—
Riley.
He was watching her approach with a wide smile on his face. She hesitated, unsure how to greet this man who had been her lover but could really be nothing to her socially. Why was he here?
“Sophie,” he said with jubilance and took both her hands in his. She froze as he kissed them, both of them, twice, wholly inappropriate and sending shivers through her. Regaining her senses, she yanked them away.
“You’re here,” he said emphatically. “You’re actually here.”
“I am,” she said.
“I thought you’d left.”
“I had.” She was having trouble putting her words together with the bubbly drink inside of her, but she added, “I came back.”
“I see that. You were amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Liar.” She covered her mouth with her hand. She’d sounded angry when she meant to be teasing. “I mean, I saw you very briefly during the introductions, but you were gone by intermission.”
“A woman had a baby,” he smiled self-consciously.
“What? No! During the concert?” She felt a little giddy, and tried harder to be serious. “Why on earth was she here?” What woman in her right mind would be out if she was so far along?
“She wasn’t a patron. She was staff and apparently needed the wages, right up until the end.”
“How did anyone know you were a doctor?”
“Almost a doctor,” he amended. “It’s a long story, but I got my ticket for tonight at the last minute and was speaking with Mr. Shepherd—”
“From the piano store?”
“Yes, we came here together, but apparently he prefers to watch from the back. I had mentioned about attending the medical college. When he heard the woman’s distress, he sent for me.”
Riley gave her another smile. “I missed only a little of the concert, right before intermission. Mother and child are safe at the hospital now. It was a boy. She’s naming him Mozart.”
“You’re joking!”
“I am.”
She giggled.
“I returned to the hall as you started to play again, but I couldn’t return to my seat. You sounded equally stupendous from in the back as you did from up front.” He took her hand again, this time to examine it. “It’s well-healed, don’t you think?”
Sophie couldn’t think, not with him holding her hand and running his thumb over her knuckles, his head bowed in concentration. His dear head, which she’d never thought to see up close again. When he looked up, their eyes locked and she could swear she felt a jolt.
“Why are you here?” she asked him. All at once, the champagne was making her feel a bit weepy. This was supposed to be a celebratory night, but Riley’s presence made her feel pain and remorse, as well as the desperate desire to be home in her new flat away from everyone.
“I was hoping you’d let me take you to dinner.”
She was so shocked that she couldn’t speak. Then Henry and his brother, Arthur, and Otto came over.
“We’re heading to supper, Sophie. Are you coming?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” she said at once. “I am. It was nice to see you, Mr. Dalcourt.” Though it hadn’t been nice at all. It had been startling and disquieting, and seeing him had made her feel all manner of unsettling sensations. “Give my best to . . .” she trailed off. Blue blazes! She couldn’t say it.
Instead, she took one of Otto’s arms and one of Henry’s and urged them forward. When she turned away, Riley’s face was not amused.
They’d taken three steps when she heard him say clearly, “I am not marrying Eliza. Ever.”
She stopped a
nd the others stopped with her. She closed her eyes. Had she heard him right? Then Riley added, “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me, Miss Malloy?”
She felt Otto pull away from her right side so she could turn and answer. Instead, she turned to Henry on her left.
“I think I won’t be having supper with you after all.”
Henry nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” He released her arm and looked at Riley. “Sir, take care of our star pianist and make sure she gets to bed at a decent hour.”
Sophie gasped and Arthur coughed at his brother’s indelicacy. Henry turned beet red at what his words might convey. But Riley nodded seriously. “I’ll do that, sir. You may count on it.”
They spoke very little on their way to dinner, at a restaurant a block away. Sophie was hit with all the nerves that she hadn’t felt opening before a full house. Having just played her first concert, she was already over the moon. And now, going to dinner with Riley, she could barely stand her nervous excitement.
“You’re humming,” he said to her, with laughter in his voice, as he held the bistro door open for her. She blushed. It was late, early diners had all gone home. A few theater people remained, along with the concert-goers. They managed to get a private table away from the chilled street window, away from any noise. As soon as they sat, Riley took her hands again and merely stroked them.
“I am so happy to be touching you,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve thought of nothing else since I saw your name in the newspaper.”
She shivered. She’d dreamed of feeling his hands on her many times. That he was with her, sitting in a restaurant, sharing a mundane meal, seemed a dream in itself. She smiled at him and watched as his own face spread into a slow grin.
“Thinking you were three thousand miles away, I nearly fell off my chair when I read your name,” he said. “How long have you been back?”
“A couple months,” she admitted.
“You never tried to contact me.” He sounded surprised.
“I saw little point in doing so,” she admitted. “Not from how things were when you . . .”
An Irresistible Temptation Page 18
