“But—” Lacey began, stopping abruptly when Zac nudged her meaningfully. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out.” She finished brightly. “That’s always half the fun.”
Usually, Linnea would agree, but this concert was so far from being fun it wasn’t even in the same state. “The truth is…” Linnea took a deep breath.
She was here to build networks, to try and establish herself back in Marietta. Surely Lacey would be a good person to confide in—after all, she knew everybody and everything in and around the town. And once upon a time Linnea had told Nat everything. Nearly everything.
“I was a little…” She searched for the right words. “Hasty.”
Nat’s lips twitched at the word. “Always the first to volunteer,” he murmured and Linnea couldn’t disagree.
“It’s worse. I didn’t just volunteer. I proposed the idea and offered to organize it.”
“Let me get this straight,” Nat said. “You just moved back, you had to take on your family business, your dad is sick, you’re a single mom and you thought it was a good idea to organize a concert single-handedly? In a couple of months?” He whistled. “You always did like a challenge…”
Although his tone was light, his words teasing, Nat’s eyes were full of sympathy and emboldened, Linnea tried to explain. To get the whole mess straight in her own head. “Elsie, my eldest, is struggling with my decision to move back. She’s only ever lived in Milchester, she went to kindergarten there, then school. All Logan’s family live there—their head office is one of the town’s biggest employers, so everyone knows who she is. It’s a very safe, familiar place for her.”
“I spent my whole childhood moving around. It’s not easy upping sticks and starting again, even when you’re used to it,” Lacey said.
“No. I do empathize with her with all my heart, but at the same time I really think this move is the right thing for all of us. I wouldn’t have made the decision if I didn’t. I just want her to give Marietta a chance.” She looked down at her hands. “What makes things a more complicated is that this time of year has always been really special. Logan’s family is very big on traditions—it’s less than an hour by train to the center of Manhattan so every Christmas there was ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center, a Broadway show, and dinner at the same restaurant. She feels that Christmas isn’t going to be Christmas this year without all those events and it’s breaking her heart.”
“But Marietta has loads of amazing Christmas traditions,” Lacey said. “The stroll is coming up, there’s the Christmas tree auction…”
“Absolutely! My plan is to give her new traditions, to help her realize that Christmas can be wonderful wherever you are. My family is Swedish so I am going to resurrect the Santa Lucia ceremony for the girls, and my dad has carved an awesome winter village which we’re going to add to every day of advent.”
“That sounds like a good plan.” The warm expression in Nat’s eyes warmed her through.
“Milchester always holds a concert on the last afternoon of the semester. It marks the start of the Christmas vacation. Kids from every school, kindergarten upwards take part, that’s what makes it so special. The whole town comes together. Elsie is a really keen singer and it’s the absolute highlight of her year—it was taking part in the concert two years ago which really helped her come to terms with Logan’s death. She was so distraught about missing it that I promised her we would have a concert right here in Marietta.”
“What a lovely idea, bridging her two homes like that.” Lacey leaned against Zac and smiled up at him with such love and trust that Linnea’s heart hurt just looking at them.
Would she ever have that kind of partnership again? Had she even had it during her marriage? It hadn’t been a bad marriage, but there had certainly been times when she had felt more alone than she would ever have believed possible while sharing a life with someone else.
She took a sip of the tart drink, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’ve helped organize it since Elsie started kindergarten, so I thought it would be pretty easy to just repeat the formula here. My role was always behind the scenes—tapping up local businesses for sponsorship, organizing the raffle, putting committees together to deal with costumes and refreshments. The music side was always looked after by the high school teachers. But it’s very different continuing a time-honored tradition to kicking one off. I don’t have the contacts here to start the committees I need—and there’s so much to do back at the orchard I don’t have the time to make the contacts. Worst of all, the high school doesn’t have anyone with the time to sort out the music. I have a venue, lots of kids signed up, and an excited daughter who is over the moon that she can take part in her usual concert, but I don’t have a theme, a musical director, and I have to work out sponsorship, costumes, and all the other details—with one month to go until the concert. If it wasn’t for Elsie, I would cancel it this year, but I just can’t let her down. She already feels that she can’t trust the adults in her life to keep their word…”
The words had just poured out of her. Linnea hadn’t even known just how stressed she was until she finished speaking. She’d been telling herself it was all fine for the last couple of weeks, reminding herself she organized events all the time and not one had ever gone horribly wrong yet—she always salvaged something. But this time, when it really mattered, when her own daughter’s trust and faith and happiness was at stake? This time Linnea didn’t think she could do it. Not alone.
And she was so alone.
She swallowed back the lump in her throat, forcing a bright smile onto her face. “I’m sorry, I’m just having a wobble, I’m sure I can manage.”
“Not alone you can’t,” Lacey said as Nat spoke up.
“I’ll take over the music.”
A sudden silence filled the room as all three turned and stared at Nat. “You?” Lacey managed finally. “What do you know about school concerts?”
“Not much, but I know about music. I can arrange, conduct, lead… I’m in town until the New Year anyway.”
“Nat, I can’t ask you to do that…” Linnea was torn between hope and apprehension.
Working with Nat? Was that really a wise idea? Not, she admitted as a she felt a speck of much-needed, optimism, that she had any alternative.
Nat gave her no time to dissuade him. “This time I volunteered.” His eyes gleamed. “See, I’m a reformed character, no co-opting required.
“Why don’t I take over the raffle and helping organize chaperons and stalls?” Lacey suggested.
Before Linnea could reply, Nat was nodding. “You know everyone so that makes sense. Zac, you can take on sponsorship; after your bake-off performance the town thinks you’re a fundraising hero. Besides”—Nat grinned at his sister’s fiancé—“you have that strong, silent, won’t take no for an answer vibe going on. The aunts and mom can tackle costumes. What else?”
Linnea flung her hands up to stop the flow of words. “Wait. I didn’t mean to dump the concert on you…”
“Linnea, you haven’t. You’re still overseeing it. We’re just your obedient minions, taking some of the responsibility of your shoulders.” Nat nodded towards the old piano, gleaming in a corner of the room. “Do you still play?”
“Play? I… a little.”
“Good, then you can help me with the arrangements. I’ll need an accompanist at the rehearsals.” The grin he flashed her was pure mischief. “I’ll bet you have an entire rehearsal schedule worked out if nothing else, admit it.”
All the words of protest died as Linnea looked from Nat to Lacey to Zac and saw not just acceptance, but enthusiasm. She needed help and here they were, offering it wholeheartedly. She leaned back in her chair, feeling a little of the tension slip away. Maybe she wasn’t alone after all. And that was the biggest relief of all. She swallowed her last vestiges of the old pride that wanted to insist that actually she could manage, thank you. Pushed back the Linnea who never admitted defeat and summoned a wobbly smil
e. “Thank you. Everyone. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. And I’m horribly out of practice, Nat but, yes, I’ll accompany you. If you need me to.”
Nat paused and turned, his blue eyes fixing on Linnea with an intensity that almost took her breath away, turning back the years, whisking her back to an enchanted evening by the lake. “If I need…” he began, a husky tinge to his voice. He stopped and inhaled. “Great. We’ll need to get together to look at some music. What are you thinking?”
Thinking? The look in Nat’s eyes when he said “need” had robbed Linnea of all thought. She did her best to pull her mind back to what really mattered—the concert. “We had a different theme every year in New York. I’m not sure what works best…”
“We’d better decide soon. When’s the first rehearsal?”
“Tuesday.”
“Right, I’ll see how many singers we actually have and what the standard is like and we’ll take it from there. Lacey, Zac, does that work for you.”
“Yes, sir.” Lacey gave a mock salute. “Sergeant Lacey reporting for duty, sir!”
Nat reached out to swat his sister and, as the two tussled, Linnea picked up her glass with trembling hands. She was so used to doing everything by herself it was difficult to hand over to anyone else—difficult and yet a huge relief. Strange that it was Nat helping her out. Not just because of their history, but because he’d never been the community-minded type before. Not unless she’d forced him into it. Which to be fair, she had several times. In fact, it was music that had brought them together. She had volunteered him to help her with a project in the retirement home. Not that she’d expected him to agree…
“Mommy, Mommy!” At the shout Linnea’s memories disappeared as Elsie and Betsy came flying into the room, their mouths sticky, their dark hair tumbling around their shoulders.
“Slow down, girls.” She put out a hand to steady them as they skidded to a stop. “Say hello to Miss Hathaway, Mr. Hathaway and…” She paused, realizing she had no idea what Zac’s surname was.
“Call me Lacey.” Lacey broke away from Nat and smiled at the girls. “And this is Zac and Nat. Now, let me guess, you must be Elsie, which makes you Betsy. Am I right?”
“How did you guess?” Betsy asked, round-eyed.
“Magic,” Lacey whispered.
But Elsie wasn’t to be sidetracked. “Mommy, can we make gingerbread houses for the Stroll? Please? I want to make a scary castle—with bats and trees and ghosts. Can I?”
“I… a house, absolutely. A castle might be a little too ambitious, Elsie, for our first attempt.”
“The lady said it would be okay.”
“Lady?” Linnea cursed herself as the excitement faded from her daughter’s eyes and her mouth began to assume its all-too familiar droop.
She shouldn’t have been so quick to curb her daughter’s ideas, terrifying as they were—she doubted she could manage the simplest of houses, let alone a gothic castle.
“I believe she means me.” An imposingly tall, elegant woman walked into the den as if she were on a Paris catwalk.
Elsie stepped away from Linnea and gazed up at the woman with imploring eyes.
“Hello, Mrs. Hathaway.” Linnea had always been rather in awe of Nat’s great-aunt; she had the kind of cutting-edge look that would turn heads on Madison Avenue let alone in Marietta.
Today she wore a jade silk jumpsuit teamed with a silver chain belt and the kind of heels guaranteed to break Linnea’s ankles if she ever dared wear them. Her hair was cut into a fierce, choppy bob, the ends dyed black and red, the rest a smooth silver.
“Patty, please, and it’s lovely to see you, Linnea. I’d love to give the girls a hand with their houses if that’s okay with you. Bring them over any evening next week.”
Linnea’s first instinct was to refuse, out of politeness, out of a need not to be beholden, out of the stubbornness she knew made life harder, her need to do everything herself, to excel. She had already practically begged for help from the younger Hathaways, she didn’t want to be more indebted to the family. But something stilled the refusal before she uttered it. She wanted to set down roots. She wanted the girls to set down roots. This would be a good place to start.
Chapter Seven
How had this happened? How had he, Nat Hathaway, found himself standing on a stage in front of row upon row of children nearly all staring right at him, listening to several more than qualified teachers passionately putting forward their case for just how the Christmas concert should go?
And if they had such strong feelings on the matter then why on earth weren’t they taking responsibility for the music?
“The seniors are not going to want to sing madrigals in four-part harmonies,” the high school teacher, Mrs. Bloom said wearily and for the fourth time. Nat agreed with her wholeheartedly, he couldn’t imagine anything less likely to appeal to a bunch of teens. Or any of the assembled children come to that.
“I don’t think we have enough time for madrigals anyway,” he said diplomatically, smiling as charmingly as he could at Mrs. O’Leary who taught some of the more talented students violin and piano and helped out with the middle school music lessons. She’d taught Nat for a time in the year he’d spent at school in Marietta and he was very fond of her. Not fond enough for madrigals though. He glanced towards the piano and caught Linnea’s eye, aware that she was enjoying every moment of watching him negotiate between the impassioned parties.
She should be the one standing here practicing her diplomatic skills. It was her concert. Only he had promised to take over responsibility for the music. He still wasn’t sure why. He could blame the excess of pie; he could even blame the excellent Olsen’s cider, but Nat knew all too well what the reason was. He had wanted to impress Linnea. It was senior year all over again.
Wanted to impress her, wanted to see a smile on her face, a glow in her dark eyes.
He smiled wryly. Listen to him, behaving like some medieval knight carrying a torch for some unattainable lady. Who did he think he was? He hadn’t seen Linnea Olsen in almost a decade, had only fleetingly thought about her in all that time; time in which she had married, had become a mother. All that responsibility she carried, responsibility he could hardly fathom. After all, his longest relationship had lasted less than six months and the only thing he had created was music. That had always seemed impressive, always seemed enough but did it compare to carrying and raising another human being?
He knew artists who acted like it did. He’d never been one of them; music had always been easy for him. At least his two albums had been, almost too easy, like he was playing at it. The handful of songs he had penned for other artists, the tracks he’d recorded alone had been harder, but he doubted any woman would forgive him if he compared the process to childbirth.
The annoyed tones of the elementary school teacher, a pretty brunette whose name Nat had already forgotten recalled him to the present. “How on earth are my kindergarten kids going to manage four-part harmonies? I already told you that’s ridiculous. We should be doing Christmas pop classics. It’s a real winner.”
“I still think big band Christmas might be fun. Don’t you think, Nat?” Mrs Bloom asked.
“Erm, I…” The last time Nat had stood in this hall he’d still been at school himself.
How had he suddenly found himself not just standing with the teachers, but arbitrating amongst them? This was a level of adulthood he wasn’t anywhere near ready for.
“They are all excellent suggestions, let me think about it. Today I suggest we go through some vocal exercises, find some soloists, try singing together, turn four choirs into one, okay?”
It was just the same when a bunch of session musicians got together for the first time, eying each other up, wondering who would take the lead, if there would be harmony or just a discordant mess. The important thing was the music, that moment when a bunch of individual instruments, individual musicians, become one.
Nat strode to the front of the
stage, peered into the auditorium, and swallowed. It was ironic, he had performed in front of thousands of people, just him and his guitar, singing music he had written, completely opening his heart to complete strangers and yet, once on that stage, the nerves just shrank away. Here, today, the nerves just intensified. He shuffled his feet and stared back at the dozens of faces all gazing at him expectedly. Some of the faces were so small they were still just eyes and smudgy noses, others, the ones with the weary-cynicism of adolescence in their eyes, were old enough to be attending gigs themselves. As Nat looked down on them, he realized with a sudden horror that to them twenty-eight was old. He was actually old. They didn’t see a cool musician. They saw an adult. Him.
And okay, technically, he was an adult, had been for a long time, but it was far too easy to forget that in the twilight adolescence of life on the road as a guitar for hire, a life of short-term lets, short-term relationships. No responsibilities, no cares beyond the next gig, the next crowd. The transition guy in every way.
But things were changing. Money was being spent on him. It was up to him to justify the investment. To play the part they wanted him to play. Just when he was beginning to question who he was and what he wanted.
But that was a thought for another day. Today, he could make a real difference in these kids’ lives, help make this concert something really special.
Even when he moved on afterward, the memories would still be there. Memories of something real.
Nat cleared his throat. How did he address five year olds anyway? Like any musicians, with authority and hope they believed he knew what he was doing.
“Hi. I’m Nat and we’re here to make some noise, okay? Now the first thing we need to know is where our diaphragm is. Can you all make a fist? Like this?” He held up his hand, waiting until the majority of his audience copied him, then showed them how to find their diaphragm.
Once he started, the nerves fell away, just as they did when he played. Patiently, he took the groups through some breathing exercises and then some warm-ups, walking through the lines to identify possible soloists.
Their Christmas Carol (Big Sky Hathaways Book 2) Page 5