“What did he say, exactly?” Winfield was reading the newspaper. He didn’t look up.
“He was surprised. He said he’d heard of you, but I don’t believe him.”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s happening at Blossom?”
“I checked the charts. Jimmy Button is making waves over in Australia. He’s got a new album called Button’s Back and Blue. It hit number one on the Aussie charts about a week ago. He did a mini tour over the last month. They love him. Goes by Jim Buckman now.” Loren dropped the last statement nonchalantly to see if Mike was listening.
“He looked very human on one of their TV broadcasts.” Winfield turned the page of his newspaper, still not looking up. Loren didn’t know about the Today Tonight segment.
“What do you mean?”
“He did an interview on a big TV show. A friend of mine sent me a tape.”
Loren walked over and placed the full coffee mug on the newspaper directly under his eyes. “My next move is to spill it if you don’t look at me.”
Winfield lifted his eyes, mischievously. “There was a song on the tape, part of the background when the closing credits came on, Peg. It’s going to take off when they release it here.”
“Shall we make that the focal point with McCabe?”
“Oh, it’ll come up for sure, but there’s more.”
“Tell me.” Loren sat down opposite her on-air partner.
“Blossom’s got a couple of British group’s on the charts in Europe, too. It’s a strange way to kick off new talent. The money’s here in the U.S., but this McCabe guy’s putting his people everywhere else.”
“Button’s using his real name,” she repeated. “Resurfacing somewhere else isn’t a bad thing. Build some recognition and then come home.”
“I hear he’s coming back any day now. I have a feeling the Brits are coming here, too. If I’m right, Blossom is setting things up for a big splash. That’s what we talk about on the air. In private, too.”
Loren gave him an inquisitive look. “In private?”
“Just an idea percolating in my head. I’ll know better after the interview.” He went back to his newspaper. Loren let it go.
***
Ellis took the call from Benson LaSalle while he was eating a club sandwich in his London hotel room. The drummer acted like they were old friends.
“I’m available.”
Ellis played dumb. “Available for what?”
“Don’t be stupid, word’s out Jimmy’s back in business.”
“You want to be on the drums?”
“Of course.”
“Didn’t you lay him out the last time we were together?”
“Just a misunderstanding. Besides, he deserved it.”
“I thought you had your own band.”
“Just temporary until Jimmy got his act together.”
“What makes you think he’s back?”
“Sonny says he did some studio work with him on the new album.”
“So? That’s all it was, studio sessions.”
“Sonny also said Jimmy’s pushing the album in Australia, but now he’s coming home.”
“Why call me?”
“Are you his agent or not?”
“His agent, not yours. I gave you your release, remember?”
“That’s right, but I’ve got a contract. It says I’m in on anything Jimmy does for ten years. It still has five years to go.”
Ellis knew about the contract. It was written while Daisy Overton still ran Blossom. Benson was part of a package of musicians she signed right after Jimmy’s first album was released. Benson was assigned to The Jimmy Button Band when the first tour was put together.
“He won’t take you on. I don’t want you around, either.”
“That’s what my lawyer thought you’d say. Just following his instructions before I file suit. My next call is to Cindy and that new guy. Just putting our demand on the table before we go see a judge.”
Ellis was not alarmed. Lawsuits were the norm in the music business. Most were settled or ignored according to the whims of the people involved. “He’s got plenty of lawsuits on his plate. Another one from you won’t mean a thing.”
“Who, Jimmy?”
“No, Miles McCabe at Blossom. He’s not Daisy.”
“We’ll see. If you’re talking to Jimmy, let him know. Maybe we can get it settled between us. All I want to do is play. I’m not in this to make trouble.”
***
The dinner with Cindy was delightful, but it had its hurdles. She made the initial conversation easy with her charm. Miles was at ease within ten minutes of sitting down at a trendy restaurant on Millburn’s Main Street. They shared a good cabernet, talked business for thirty minutes, then branched off to more personal areas.
“I know so little about you, Miles. Why did you come to Blossom?”
He took her through his recruitment, mentioning Myra, but skirting over his former corporate career. He explained his goals for the record label, including its eventual placement on the block once the finances were solid.
“It’s only supposed to be a year, although I have to admit I’m beginning to like the work. It will be hard to let go if things really turnaround.”
Cindy was disappointed. Record labels changed hands all the time, bought out by bigger companies or simply passed around from entrepreneur to entrepreneur as the winds of change demanded. Still, in her mind Miles McCabe was different. He was so energetic and involved. He brought real discipline to the process. He was creative, too. He’s the one who saw promise in the British groups and the Canadian she was currently working with. He had quick solutions to tough problems like convincing Ellis to shepherd things over in London and sending Jimmy off to Australia, not only to get his act together, but also to evaluate the Australian singer. He even recognized that Jimmy could help her when the Brits hit a wall. She had assumed his takeover at Blossom was permanent. Miles saw the disappointment on her face.
“It’s only been seven months. Selling out at twelve is just a target, not cast in stone. The books have to be solid.”
She changed the subject. “Never married?”
“For thirty years. She passed away.”
Cindy kicked herself. Thirty years was a long time. It meant that his wife died not so long ago and more importantly, that such a long marriage had to be a loving one.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Miles showed no surface emotion. “Cancer. We found out too late and then she was gone. It hurt for a while, losing my best friend. I think of her often, but it’s not as hard as it used to be.”
“Children?”
“No.”
She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself. Funny that such a personal question is always uppermost even when it’s the last thing someone should ask. He turned the light on her.
“How’s your relationship with Jimmy?”
“I had my concerns when we saw each other, but working together broke the ice nicely.”
“You didn’t get back together?”
“No. Just friends.”
“No one else?”
Cindy gave Miles a curious look. What was that supposed to mean? Was he making casual conversation or was there something more to his question? He held her gaze for an instant then averted his eyes. Was he ashamed or embarrassed?
“No. This is the first invitation to dinner I’ve accepted since I broke up with Jimmy.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s a fair question. There’s no one in my life at the moment.”
***
Jimmy rested for two days in Melbourne, taking in the sights and luxuriating in bed well past his normal wake-up time. He had a ten a.m. appointment with Sister Marie Bonaventuri. Sleuthing was not his strong suit. He still didn’t understand why Miles wanted him to find some singer on the other side of the world. Now that Button’s Back and Blue was doing well, the whole adventure seemed like a waste of valuable time, but Miles insist
ed and he was feeling too good about his Australian success to fight his boss. Besides, he should be able to evaluate the new singer quickly and get home by the end of the week.
Thirty-Eight
The cab left Jimmy at the entrance to the orphanage. He climbed the same stairs, unchanged from the day Aaron Whitehurst carried his son inside. A janitor, sweeping the parquet floor, gestured to a grand stairway leading to the second level offices. Jimmy climbed the stairs mildly nervous. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with a nun, Sunday school back at St. Mary’s Church in Chillingham. The memory wasn’t especially pleasant.
He went over what he wanted to know. He had mapped the route from Melbourne to Airey’s Inlet. It would be a long drive. No sense taking it if he didn’t know more. Sister Marie’s name was on the contract. That also was a mystery. Might as well get all the facts. Hopefully, it was a dead end. Then he’d be on a plane home in a hurry.
At the top of the stairs he followed a corridor to the open door of a neatly appointed office. He hesitated at the entrance, seeing the figure of a nun in full habit seated behind a desk. He lingered before making his presence known. Too late, the woman looked up, flashing a smile.
“Mr. Buckman?”
“Yes, sister.”
She rose from her chair and came over, extending her hand. “Come in, come in. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. Your music is quite wonderful.”
Jimmy was surprised by her recognition. He guessed her to be in her late sixties, but with few age lines and bright, penetrating eyes. Her handshake was firm and welcoming. She turned back to her desk and pointed to a soft chair for him to sit.
“I know you’re here about Nigel, but first, please tell me, how do you like Australia?” Her interest seemed genuine. Jimmy relaxed and settled into his chair.
“Beautiful country. The reception to my music has been overwhelming.”
“Your first visit?”
“Yes.”
“Good. First impressions are important. That way you’ll come back.” The smile remained fixed on her face.
“I have to admit I’m surprised you know who I am.”
She let out a laugh. “I watch television and read the newspapers. I saw your segment on Today Tonight. Then, of course, Mr. McCabe called from America.” Jimmy’s eyes dropped when she mentioned the broadcast. She picked up on it immediately. “It must have been hard to relive your problems back home, but it only showed that you’re human like the rest of us.”
Jimmy nodded. “Not my finest hour.”
“We all have challenges. Now your music, I must tell you that song, Peg, is lovely.”
Jimmy brightened. “You’ve heard it?”
“Many times.” She opened a drawer and produced a copy of Button’s Back and Blue. “This arrived from Mr. McCabe a few days after he called. Right now I only have the cover. The record is making the rounds here at the orphanage. We all love it.”
Jimmy smiled. She wasn’t the stern disciplinarian he expected from his childhood. If there was any judgment in her attitude she hid it well. She evinced charm and openness.
“Since you’ve spoken to Miles McCabe, you know I’m trying to locate Nigel Whitehurst. Can you help me?”
“I think so. He lives out on the Great Ocean Road in Airey’s Inlet, but it’s best I tell you about him before you meet.”
“He was an orphan here?”
“His father left him with us when he was three years old.”
“We have a tape of him singing and a contract.”
“Ah, the contract.” She threw her head back. “That was two years ago.”
“It fell through the cracks when Blossom’s founder left the company.”
“I suppose that sort of thing happens. Tell me, do you think he has promise?”
“That’s what I’m here to determine. The voice on the tape certainly does.”
“He’s quite talented. Not just in music. He played professional football and practiced law for a time.”
Jimmy took this in. “What is he doing now?”
“What is the term people use? Dropped out? I think that’s what you would call it. He went through a bad time with his football, serious injuries that ended his chances. Then he went to law school in Sydney and served several years as a prosecutor in New South Wales. But something happened with that, too. Now, he has a small shop catering to surfers.”
“How old is he?”
“He’s twenty-eight.”
“He’s done a lot in a short time.”
“I always urged him to try different things. But, now I fear, he’s simply adrift. May I be honest with you?”
“Please.”
“He has yet to learn how to cooperate with life. He experiences every twist and challenge as an affront. If circumstances thwart his efforts he considers it a failure of something in himself, a flaw of some sort. He is very stubborn.”
“Can’t handle adversity?”
“I suppose that’s one way to put it. When he was young it was difficult to convince him to develop his singing skills. He doesn’t take direction well. If shackled with a set of rules, he fights. If he cannot win he withdraws.”
“Does he write his own music, play an instrument?”
I don’t think he writes, but all of our children are trained on the piano. He did not distinguish himself, just his singing. Do you write your own songs?”
“Yes.”
Sister Marie pondered this for a moment, looking past Jimmy to nothing in particular. Then her eyes came back to his. “Many of our children carry special burdens. Being without parents, it’s hard for a young soul to understand. We try to give them the basic trust that a nurturing home can provide, but we are an institution. Saint Malachy’s cannot duplicate the family unit.”
“He isn’t trusting?”
“Oh, he’s not the suspicious sort. His burden is depression. From the moment he came under our care he suffered from periods of emotional pain. I’ve tried to help him through these times. They come and go, most often triggered by some difficulty. His stubbornness prevents him from learning how to cope.”
“This has something to do with what I should expect when I meet him?”
“You may not be welcomed. He hasn’t communicated with me in over a year.”
“Did you tell this to Miles?”
“That you may find Nigel a bit recalcitrant, yes. Not the reasons why.”
Jimmy filed her words for a chat with his boss. He also saw an escape.
“Maybe this is not the right time to approach him.”
Sister Marie shot him a stern look. “I am being candid for a reason, Mr. Buckman.” The hard discipline of the nuns he’d encountered as a child showed in her eyes. “Nothing I’ve said is meant to warn you away. You simply need to be prepared when you meet him.”
“But…”
“I can assure you he’s every bit as good as Mr. McCabe thinks he is.”
Her declaration was quite final. Jimmy regretted his feeble attempt to wriggle out.
“If you tell me how to find him, I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Leslie has his address.” She lifted her telephone and dialed a number. “Leslie, could you come to my office, dear?” The warmth returned to her voice. After hanging up she smiled at Jimmy. “Before you go I have a favor to ask, two actually.”
“Anything.”
“Would you let Leslie introduce you to some of our children? The younger ones might not know who you are, but the teenagers certainly do. They would be thrilled.”
“I’d be happy to meet them.”
She picked up a pen and slid it with a small piece of paper across the desktop. “And, could I have your autograph?”
Jimmy was caught off guard. Since Perth he’d signed many autographs, but never for a nun. “Sure, maybe the album cover would be better.”
“Oh yes.” She became excited as she picked it up and handed it to him. “That would be ideal.”
After he penned his
name he remembered his other question.
“Your signature is also on the contract. I’m wondering why. He’s of age. No co-signer was needed.”
“Remember, I said he’s stubborn. Ah, here’s Leslie I’ll let her explain while she takes you to meet the children.”
Jimmy saw Sister Marie’s eyes light up and turned to follow her gaze to the door. A young woman came into the room, mouth opening slightly as she glanced at him with penetrating gray eyes. She offered a quick smile without speaking and then looked beyond to Sister Marie.
“Leslie, this is Jim Buckman. He’s here about Nigel. We’ve been having a nice chat.”
Leslie offered her hand as Jimmy stood. He reached out only to be struck by a lightning sense of recognition so powerful that it made his knees buckle. He gripped her palm, searching her face, uninterested in the details of her physical appearance. She had not spoken a word yet he knew her. His heart pounded and his senses came alive.
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Her American accent caught him by surprise as she waited for a reply, but he was too lost in a mixture of emotion and puzzlement. It paralyzed his ability to think or act naturally. He continued to clutch her hand, unable to let go until, sensing some movement, he realized she was trying to take it back. He quickly relaxed his fingers.
“Hello.” It came forth as a self-conscious mumble.
Sister Marie looked from one to the other with an amused expression. “He’s graciously agreed to meet the children. Would you take him around?”
Leslie turned to Sister Marie. “Yes, sister, I’d be happy to introduce him.”
“He also needs Nigel’s address.”
“I’ll get it for him.”
Jimmy continued to stare. If the years in the public spotlight had given him any self-assurance with women it was completely lost in her presence. He had never felt this way. Part of him wanted to get away if only to deal with his feelings, so foreign. Another part kept him riveted, unable to move.
“And, I told him you would explain Nigel’s contract with Blossom Records.” Sister Marie’s voice lifted slightly. The two women passed a knowing expression. Leslie turned back to Jimmy.
“Shall we go, Mr. Buckman?”
“Jim, please call me Jim.”
“Jim, of course.” She blushed. “Follow me. The children are on break. The older ones are down in the assembly room. The little ones are outside playing. Let’s go outside first, shall we?” Jimmy followed her to the door.
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