“Oh my gosh. I forgot about her, too. Thank goodness there’s muscle memory in my fingers, or I might forget every song I know.” As they exited the saloon, she asked, “What’s your favorite song to sing?”
He rubbed a knuckle across his lower lip, thinking. “I’m rather partial to Irish songs. But don’t ask me to sing ‘Danny Boy.’ I cry every time.”
“That’s okay. I do, too.”
19
1878 Leadville, Colorado—Amber
At quarter to eight that night, Amber was pacing in a dressing room below the stage at the Tabor Opera House, massaging the stiff joints in her hands. The carpeted, gas-lit room was lavishly furnished with a fainting couch, beveled glass mirrors, and a French upholstered-style dressing screen. But even with all the elegance and comfort surrounding her, she was stressed out. She worried about her voice, her stamina, and the audience’s reaction to their first set. If they didn’t get booed off the stage, the second and third sets should bring down the house.
During a break in the afternoon rehearsal, she and Rick had videotaped a message to Olivia using David’s phone. They had staged a sexually suggestive scene on a red velvet sofa they found in the prop room. Rick had unbuttoned his shirt and Amber had bared her shoulders. With Rick’s head out of the frame, she confessed to her sister she had met a sexy rock hound and wouldn’t be home for a few days. The details were vague, but according to Kenzie who watched the video, very convincing.
As soon as David and Kenzie arrived back home, he’d send the video to Olivia from Amber’s email address. She gave him her log in information, but she sensed he could access her email even without her password. He gave her the impression he would cross the moral/ethical lines for two reasons: to protect his family and to protect the brooches. A large gray zone surrounded both reasons. For someone who had never ventured into that zone, her lies had not only pushed her in there, but they had kicked her out on the other side.
Amber turned the page in the songbook and hummed the tune of the first duet on the evening’s program. Kenzie had been spot-on about Rick’s vocals. His high notes were steady, his tone was smooth, and his voice overall had a haunted smokiness. She knew she had a showstopper with Rick, and then she’d heard David on the sax. He played strong, cutting-edge solos, but the way he relaxed into his ballads and let the instrument sing to the crowd was simply magical. Watching Kenzie’s pulse beat in her throat, Amber knew Kenzie had fallen in love with David the moment she’d heard the first note from his saxophone.
A loud knock on her door cut short further musings. “Come in.”
The door opened a crack, and Noah timidly craned his neck around the frame. She dropped the songbook on a nearby chair and opened the door wider. “Noah.” The gold-colored satin train attached to her dress puddled about her feet as she swirled to welcome him with a warm hug.
“I’m so glad to see you, sweetie.”
He thrust a nosegay to within inches of her nose. “I bought flowers. Pa said it’s the proper thing to do for stage performers on opening night.”
She slipped the bouquet, made from a variety of flowers, from his hand and sniffed. “Your pa is a smart man.” Her dressing room already smelled like a gift shop with bouquets from the McBains and Rick and a tin of gingerbread cookies from Mrs. Garland. “These are lovely. Thank you.” She glanced over Noah’s head and down the hallway. “Where’s your pa?”
“He’s with Mr. and Mrs. McBain. They’re talking about the Highlands.”
“Are they finding people they know in common?” she asked.
“Mr. McBain said he’s spent most of his life in America. He doesn’t know many people from there.”
“If I met someone from Chicago, we probably wouldn’t know the same people either.” The McBains were experienced time travelers. Daniel wouldn’t trip them up, but knowing they were having a conversation didn’t help Amber’s pre-performance jitters.
Two men slapping backs and laughing drew her attention to the hallway again. David and Daniel were on their way to her dressing room. They could almost pass for brothers—same coloring, height, weight, bone structure, similar voices, and dressed in identical black tailcoat tuxedos, dress shirts with stand-up collars, black cravats, and silver-gold brocade threads in their waistcoats. They must have shopped at the same gentlemen’s emporium. The most powerful similarity, though, was that unnamed quality both men possessed. She couldn’t describe it or identify it. She only knew it was there.
“Hi, Pa. I gave Miss Kelly the flowers.”
Daniel stepped into the dressing room, and the space immediately steamed up. She was surprised the flowers didn’t wilt. He tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing. “Miss Kelly, ye look beautiful.”
The way he said her name, the way he looked at her now with soft eyes that held a hint of desire, made her cheeks heat. Her face probably resembled her childhood Raggedy Ann doll with large red patches on either side of her nose. The gold and white satin Paris creation was cut low, showing a bit of cleavage, and his gaze lowered over her. She reached for her fan and snapped it open, fluttering it beneath her chin.
“Thank you. It’s fancier than what I would normally wear, but it works for the stage.”
Noah tugged on Daniel’s cuff. “Come on, Pa. We need to find our seats.”
“Where are you sitting?” she asked.
“We have one of the two proscenium boxes on the left side of the house,” Daniel said. “We’re sitting with Mrs. McBain, Mrs. Garland, and Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.”
“Those are excellent seats. You’ll enjoy the show from there.” While taking a break during rehearsal, Amber had wandered through the auditorium and the horseshoe-shaped balcony. She’d also relaxed in one of the ornately carved wooden chairs with soft upholstery in the proscenium box closest to the stage.
David leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, grinning down at her, eyes crinkling into triangles at the corners. Rick pushed past David and entered the room. At her request, he had shaved his whiskers. Of the three men, he might be the best looking, only because he had that bad boy concoction of safe danger and unavailability that women found sexy. She had chased a bad boy once. Never again. Chasing one was a perpetually unobtainable goal, although it had been an exhilarating ride and some of the best sex she’d ever had.
“We need to get into place. Are you ready?” Rick asked.
Daniel swiveled, “O’Grady, right? I heard ye’re singing with Miss Kelly.”
“I can’t say no to her smile. Can you?”
Daniel and Rick seemed to circle each other like two peacocks, shaking their brilliantly-hued, long tail feathers. David looked at her from behind Daniel’s back, one eyebrow raised in question or perhaps amusement.
David’s faint smile faded away and he gestured to Rick with his chin. “Bring the song book. I want to look at the music one more time.” He grabbed Rick by the nape as though he were a disagreeable cat.
“See you in the wings, sweetheart,” Rick said as he was forcibly removed from her dressing room.
They punched each other in the arms, speaking in low voices as they hurried away. Their footsteps retreated down the hallway until they were washed out by the sounds of Daniel shuffling his feet about the carpet, looking like he had something on his mind. He lifted his hand from the back of a walnut chair and proceeded to straighten and smooth his cravat.
Noah piped in. “Pa made dinner reservations in the dining room at the Clarendon Hotel. You’ll be there, won’t you, Miss Kelly?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” She lifted her eyes to Daniel. “I haven’t been invited.”
Noah moved to stand between Amber and his dad. “I’m asking you. And besides, your cousins and Mrs. Garland are coming, too.”
Daniel’s shoulders lifted slightly, and he had the look of a silver miner uneasy in his Sunday suit. She had a sneaky suspicion he hadn’t been on a date since his wife died. If he was on the rebound and needed a rebound girl, she wouldn’t mind steppi
ng into the role, so long as their time together wasn’t part of a Pinkerton investigation. But how would she know? The scent of him lingered in the room now—the castile soap he favored, the faint citrus of hair oil, a whiff of pipe tobacco, and whisky.
A stagehand came to the door, interrupting them. “Miss Kelly, places. The show is about to start.”
She glanced around the dressing room, slowly panicking. “Have you seen my guitar?”
“It’s in the wings,” the stagehand said.
“Thanks.” She glanced at Daniel, trying to breathe deeply. “I guess I better go.”
His gaze lingered on her as if he were reluctant to go, as if he wanted to imprint her face in his memory, as if he had something yet to say. “I hope ye’ll join us for dinner. That is…unless ye have another invitation.”
“I don’t, and I’d love to join you. But would you mind including Mr. and Mrs. Hughes? He was so helpful picking out songs theatre patrons would enjoy. I’d like to thank them. I’ll pay for their meals.”
“David said he wanted to treat everyone to a celebratory dinner.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” When she returned home, she’d plan a gathering and cook a special meal for her new cousins and introduce them to Olivia. If her sister was still speaking to her.
She followed Daniel and Noah out of the dressing room. They took the side door that led to the proscenium boxes, and she hurried in the opposite direction, humming the first few bars of “Ten Thousand Miles Away.” It was an 1870s song that Grandfather Craig promised would be received with wild applause. She had never worried about a performance being well-received, but tonight she had a host of insecurities.
The eight-hundred-seat theatre was said to be the finest between St. Louis and San Francisco. After spending the afternoon rehearsing on the thirty-five by fifty-five-foot stage, she believed it. The main curtain was a hand-painted scene of the Royal Gorge and was backed by eight drop curtains, ready to lend the proper background for any scene the entertainment demanded.
David and Rick had convinced her that performing from the apron, the area in front of the proscenium arch, provided a more intimate setting. And since there was no sound system, it would be easier for those sitting in the back of the house and in the balcony to hear the performance.
The theatre was heated by a massive coal furnace, and the lighting was supplied by seventy-two gas jets. It was a beautiful performance space decorated around a red, gold, white, and sky-blue color scheme. The seats were red plush made by Anderson, a manufacturer of patented opera chairs. She knew that because Mr. Tabor had listened to part of the rehearsal, and during a break, he had reminded her that she needed to fill every one of the plush red chairs.
They would open the show with Grandfather Craig’s song to set the tone. Then they would do a mix of songs from the late eighteen hundreds to the twenty-first century and judge the audience’s reception to unfamiliar tunes.
When she and Rick were in the prop room, she’d also found a red, plush armless chair that would look nice on stage. She intended to sit while she played since she didn’t have a strap for the guitar. Even if she’d had one, she wouldn’t have used it. Moving around while trying to manage the dress’s long train would have been too much of a distraction.
The stage manager had positioned a wooden music stand next to the chair on the apron. At exactly eight o’clock, Mr. Tabor walked out on stage.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome to the stage tenor sensation Mr. Patrick O’Grady, guitarist Miss Amber Kelly, and one of the most influential saxophonists of the century, Mr. David McBain.” Mr. Tabor glanced down at the introductions Amber had written for him, and continued, “You’re going to be hearing the sax played tonight, not in a supporting role, but as a lead instrument. Mr. McBain has forged entirely new sounds for your listening pleasure. Now, sit back and enjoy the show.”
Mr. Tabor passed her in the wings and bowed over her hand. “You filled the house, Miss Kelly. Four more to go.”
If citizens of Leadville showed up to hear three unknowns, they must be desperate for entertainment. She wondered how many of her client’s friends were in the audience. The miner had been pleased with her work and had promised to spread the word.
Rick and David walked out to a lukewarm reception. Matter of fact, if Kenzie and Noah hadn’t been applauding there wouldn’t have been much of a reception at all. Then Amber entered with a touch of nervous attitude, looked down at the audience with a taste of queenly majesty, and nodded when she spotted her client on the front row clapping enthusiastically.
David held her chair while she sat, then handed her the guitar. As soon as she was settled, he left the stage since he wasn’t singing or playing in the first set. She strummed a few chords then she and Rick jumped right into “Ten Thousand Miles Away.”
Oh for a brave and a gallant ship/And a fair an’ a fav’rin’ breeze/With a bully crew an’ a captain to/To carry me o’er the seas/To carry me o’er the seas, me boys/To me true love far away/For I’m takin’ a trip on a government ship/Ten thousand miles away.
They had the audience on their feet, stomping and hollering. Grandfather Craig had been right. To watch her grandparents enjoying the show balanced out her sister’s distress.
Then, O ye winds I ho!/A rovin’ I will go/I’ll stay no more on Erin’s shore/To hear the fiddlers play/I’m off on the bounded Maine/And I won’t be back again/For I’m on the move to my own true love/Ten thousand miles away.
The noise and sheer energy threatened to shout down the plaster walls of the theatre. They followed “Ten Thousand Miles Away” with several more sea shanties, and the Irish miners—including her client—sang right along with them. After several songs, Amber announced, “We’re going to slow this down a bit. Mr. McBain is coming back on stage to play a new tune for you. So catch your breath and enjoy his performance.”
Rick took her guitar and escorted her off the stage to thunderous applause.
When they had discussed David’s list of songs at the afternoon rehearsal, they decided the audience might be initially stunned, but since the songs he suggested were both soulful and universal they believed they should be warmly received. He intended to open with “Summertime.”
David put the mouthpiece between his lips and Amber held her breath. The first note was even purer than it had been during rehearsal. Kenzie was right. David was a high-wire act of musical textures, and both the sound and the man were purely erotic. If the women in the audience didn’t swoon, they had to be cold-hearted.
Slow, liquid notes rippled like gently rolling lake water.
When the last echo of “Summertime” faded, you could hear only the rapidly beating hearts of the women in the audience. Amber forgot to breathe. After a few seconds, a single clap resounded, and then a sharp whistle, and then another clap until the entire house was on its collective feet.
“Encore! Encore!”
Rick patted her back. “You can breathe now.”
She blew out a breath. “I was scared to death.”
David finished his set list then left the stage to a demand for another encore. “I’m done,” he said. “Ye two have to carry the show for the next four nights, so get out there and knock ’em dead.”
Amber and Rick nailed the rest of the show singing “Finnegan’s Wake,” “The Parting Glass,” and “Star of the County Down,” alternating between light-hearted ditties and soulful ballads.
The performance was flawless.
When they reached the end of the set, David brought out a banjo Mr. Tabor had found late that afternoon, and she and Rick sang a rousing rendition of “Paddy on the Railway.” They were going to close with Rick singing “Danny Boy,” but the audience was so fired up after “Paddy on the Railway” that by unspoken agreement, they finished with a bow and left the stage.
After thirty seconds of listening to “Encore, encore,” they returned to a shower of coins and bills raining down on the apron. The audience demanded “
Paddy on the Railway” again. They sang it, and the audience still wanted more. As they finished the song a second time, two men at the back of the house walked out. One of them was the man—the scary character actor—she’d seen on the boardwalk the day before. Good riddance.
Amber smiled up at Daniel sitting in the proscenium box. His bright eyes smiled back in return. “Folks, my picking fingers are tired. Come back tomorrow night and Mr. O’Grady and I will play your favorite tunes and more.” She smiled down at her client, and he grinned as men beside him and behind him patted his shoulders.
Backstage, Amber hugged and kissed both David and Rick. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She glanced back out on the stage. “Look at all that money.”
“We’ll gather it for you, Miss Kelly. We won’t keep any of it,” the stagehand said.
Rick gave her a lopsided smile, sweat streaming down his face. “My mother pulled me into a few of her shows, but I’ve never enjoyed performing as much as I did tonight. Thanks for asking me.” He then surprised Amber by kissing her on the mouth. If it hadn’t happened so quickly, she could easily have fallen into it and kissed him back.
David smacked Rick on the arm. They shared a silent look while she held her breath, wondering what was going on.
Then David turned on his heel and stomped toward the side door. He yelled over his shoulder, “Don’t screw around, O’Grady. We’ll meet ye in the dining room.”
The door slammed like a clap of thunder, and Amber blew out her breath. After the echo died away, she asked, “What’s wrong with him?”
“Guess he didn’t like me kissing you.”
“It was just a congratulatory thing. I didn’t mind.”
“Yeah, but this is business. He doesn’t want us to get caught up in the moment. If you know what I mean.”
She knew exactly what he meant, and it was a reminder for her as well. “He doesn’t want us to believe the lie we expect Olivia to believe.”
“It’s dangerous enough without us…you know…complicating the situation.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 23
