Just for the Weekend

by Susanne Matthews

  Misty pulled together every shred of self-control she possessed and stuck out her hand to shake his. She could do this; she could touch this man and remain unscathed. He was a stranger; she would survive — she had to.

  “Good to meet you ladies,” Nick said, completely ignoring the extended hand. “I’ll speak with each of you later, if not tonight then before the next rehearsal. This run-through will give me an opportunity to hear your voices, and then I’ll see if I have any pointers for you. I’ll be recording some of the rehearsal to help me with that.” With a curt nod, he followed Micah to the door and waited while Micah talked to one of the stagehands.

  Upset by his lack of common courtesy, Misty withdrew her hand. Although he frightened her, he also intrigued her. His voice, with a slight accent she knew couldn’t be Irish — she’d recognize an Irish accent anywhere — was smooth, like warm caramel, and didn’t fit the aloof look he gave her and the frown marring his face. She shivered. What had she ever done to make him look at her that way? And why is he staring at her?

  Could he be one of them? Could he be a trained assassin hoping to earn what she knew was a fat bounty on her head? She had no doubt he could be a dangerous man if crossed. She’d learned to look for the underlying signs of violence in everyone she met. She saw repressed anger and frustration in Mr. Anthony, if that was his real name. Not recognizing those signs five years ago had almost cost her her life. At first glance she’d thought him a stranger, but slowly she realized there was something familiar about him, and when she gave credence to that, it agitated the acidic butterflies that had invaded her stomach.

  “Well, that was rude and awkward,” huffed Amber, keeping her voice just above a whisper. “He completely ignored your offer to shake his hand! Maybe he’s one of those germaphobes — you know, doesn’t shake hands, afraid he might catch something. You know the type. Or he could be some kind of superstar who refuses to let common people touch him. Either way, he’s a jerk!” She snorted and stared at Nick as if he were a parasite.

  “Don’t let it bother you, Amber.” Misty fought to keep her terror in check. “I’m not offended. I’ve known more than my fair share of rude people, and although he may not have shaken my hand, he did speak to us. I just wish he’d stop staring at me like that.”

  Despite everything, he attracted her physically as no man had ever done, and she longed to reach out and touch him, but the way he stared at her — the look on his face — made her blood run cold. He stood by the door waiting for Micah, a scowl firmly fixed on his face. Frustrated, on the verge of panic, she fought the childish urge to stick out her tongue at him or flip him the bird, anything to provoke a response from him. Why was he focused on her like this?

  Laura, Micah’s wife as well as Pine Hills’s only doctor and a member of the play’s chorus, had finished putting on her costume and came over to join them. “Well, you’ve met the new music director. What do you think? I can’t imagine how Micah convinced him to do this; I’ve been after Nick for more than a year to get out and do something,” she said matter-of-factly. “This is the last thing I thought he’d ever do. Well?”

  Misty felt the butterflies settle, and she relaxed. He wasn’t a stranger; he’d been in Pine Falls longer than she had. She’d let that wild imagination of hers conjure up all kinds of demons. If Debbie had inherited her imagination, it’s no wonder she has nightmares. She looked at the man who’d captured her interest. Now that she wasn’t seeing him as a potential threat, she noticed the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his hands fisted at his sides, and the way he held himself, tense and alert. She saw that the grimace he wore wasn’t one of anger, but of worry. She recognized the emotion; it was one with which she was intimately familiar — that fear of failure, of not being good enough, of being rejected.

  Feeling more like herself, she smiled, prepared to offer him an olive branch, but although he was looking straight at her, he ignored her. She shrugged.

  Too bad, she thought. I think we could have been friends.

  She’d realized since she’d arrived in Pine Falls that friends were important — far more necessary than she’d ever thought they could be. Without them, a person was lonely and lost, the way she’d been until recently. Now, she’d fight for the life she had built here.

  “I think he’s rude,” Amber answered Laura, interrupting Misty’s musing, this time speaking loud enough to be overheard, and Nick turned toward her. “Look at him staring at Misty as if she were a cockroach. I’ve a good mind to go over there and say something.”

  “Shush, he’ll hear you, Amber,” warned Misty.

  A deaf man could hear you, she thought, embarrassed that her friend should take the snub so personally.

  “Well, it’s true.” Amber snorted. “You’re too nice. One of these days someone is going to stomp on your parade, mark my word. You need to learn to stand up for yourself.”

  Misty was chilled by Amber’s premonition. Hadn’t she been stomped on enough already?

  “Amber!” Laura’s voice was filled with reprimand. “He isn’t staring at Misty or at anyone else. Didn’t Micah say anything? I guess not. What is it about men and stating the obvious? Nick is blind.”

  Misty watched color suffuse Amber’s cheeks as her own grew hot. She felt awful. She looked straight at Nick’s mesmerizing gray-blue eyes and noticed they were unfocused, the way eyes tended to be when someone was daydreaming. Why hadn’t she seen that earlier? Being so worried about her safety had made her oblivious to the fact that not only was he not staring at her, he probably hadn’t even realized she was there.

  “Hell, Laura, I feel like such an ass,” hissed Amber. “Why isn’t he wearing dark glasses? For Pete’s sake, the man should have the decency to give us a few clues. It isn’t as if we’re all clairvoyant.”

  Micah asked the remaining cast members to go up to the stage, and as they moved from the dressing room to the theater, Misty berated herself. Hadn’t she learned the hard way not to judge a book by its cover? Hadn’t the mistake she’d made trusting Kevin O’Hara been enough to convince her not to let her eyes deceive her? She felt the need to say something to Nick, to apologize to him for Amber’s rude comments, but before she could approach him, Micah called the cast to order and explained how the night’s rehearsal would proceed.

  “Places, everyone,” called Micah. “Nick, whenever you’re ready.”

  Misty watched as Nick removed his jacket and set it on the floor beside him. He placed something in his pocket, walked over to the eighty-eight key digital piano and sat down on the bench. He spread out his arms and spanned the keys with his fingers. Mesmerized by his actions, she watched as his hands, with beautifully long tapered fingers — what her mother would have called the hands of an artist — brushed over the keys.

  “Here,” Nick said, removing what he’d put in his pocket earlier and handing it to Micah, who placed a small, personal recording device near the speaker. Tonight they would only use the hanging microphones, but on performance nights, the soloists would all wear individual mikes.

  “Nick assures me this will pick up all your voices nicely; no need to sing or speak louder than you normally would. I can assure you, when it comes to music, this guy knows all the tricks and loves his toys.”

  The cast laughed softly, but Misty could tell many of them were as worried as she was that they might not live up to a retired musician’s standards since none of them was anything other than an amateur — well, maybe she had more experience, but that was a secret she couldn’t share with anyone. Would he realize she’d had more than a little voice training? Micah had said he was a retired musician, but he hadn’t stated what kind of musician. Misty watched as he familiarized himself with the instrument he’d play.

  He must play by ear, she thought. She’d known a lot of musicians over the years who played by ear, but not all of them could pull off something of this magnitude without a musical score. As a pianist, no doubt he’d be fine, but the musical had a forty-piece high s
chool orchestra backing up the vocalists, not the seasoned performers you’d find in a professional presentation of the musical. It wouldn’t be easy to conduct the band if he couldn’t follow the score.

  Why Micah wanted him to fill in for Jolene she couldn’t imagine, but since the high school music teacher was unable to continue, perhaps there hadn’t been anyone else available on short notice. Substitute teachers could fill in at the high school, but this took someone with extensive knowledge of music. Since many of the tickets for the performances had been presold, and the presentation was a much-needed fundraiser for the local medical clinic, they had to go ahead as planned.

  She sighed and allowed her usual fatalism to take over. This was just another glitch. There wasn’t anything they could do about it. She’d play her part, sing her songs, and hope it all worked. That twinge of fear she’d had that someone might recognize her in the play gnawed at her for a few seconds, but then who from her past would come to Pine Falls, New York, to watch amateur theater? Although the small town was in a tourist area, it didn’t attract the crowds the way Lake Placid, Saranac Lake, and Tupper Lake did. Potsdam and Canton, the two largest urban areas nearby, were both college towns, but it was unlikely anyone from New York City would see her in sleepy little Pine Falls. Amos was probably right; it wasn’t anything to worry about.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  Also check out Fire Angel by Susanne Matthews.

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

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