I tried to give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine. Go be great at your interview.”
When Oscar realized his mother was leaving him behind, he wrapped both arms around her legs and started to cry.
“Mommy will be really quick,” Laney told him. “I promise. And Emma will take good care of you. Can you be strong for me? Like we practice at home?”
He slowly nodded his head. Laney pried Oscar’s little fingers off her hand one last time. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll hurry.”
Oscar watched her leave, then turned to me, his bottom lip still quivering.
“So.” I filled my voice with enthusiasm. “What would you like to do?”
He leaned onto the corner of the living room sofa and shrugged.
“Do you want to color?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want to show me a game on your DS? I bet you’re better than I am.”
Another shrug.
“Do you want to play a game? I think I have Uno cards somewhere.”
Through all of my questioning, he kept his eyes down, his eyebrows drawn close together.
When Elliott started to play next door, Oscar finally looked up. “What’s that?” he asked.
“That’s a piano.” His eyes were suddenly bright, interested. I pointed to my piano in the corner. “That’s my piano over there in the corner. My neighbor Elliott has one too. Have you ever heard one before?”
He nodded. “At church. But it doesn’t sound like that.”
“That’s because Elliott is very good. Playing the piano is his job.”
“Like his everyday job? People pay him to do it?”
I smiled. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Oscar moved to the wall where the sound of Elliott’s playing was loudest, pressed his ear against it, and closed his eyes. His entire body leaned into the music, feeling it on a level I recognized as a musician but that I’d rarely seen in someone as tiny as Oscar. I had a couple of students who felt music down to their core, who experienced it instead of just heard it, and I never grew tired of seeing the magic of learning a language that was spoken on such a personal, soul-deep level. Watching Oscar was particularly poignant because I was pretty sure he was experiencing that soul connection for the first time.
I crouched down beside him. “Oscar, do you want to go next door and watch Elliott play? We can go right now if you want.”
“Will he let us watch?”
I hesitated. I hadn’t seen Elliott outside of church in over a week. He’d said he needed to focus, and he was staying true to his word. But I had to believe this was a reason good enough to break the rules. “I’m sure he will.”
“Do you think he’ll show me how?” Oscar sniffed and used one finger to push the glasses that were sliding down his nose back onto his face.
“How to play?”
He nodded, his eyes wide, his voice soft with reverence. “I want to be able to do that.”
I remembered the moment I’d heard a violin for the first time. I had been six years old at a folk music festival with my parents when an old man dressed as a civil war soldier had played “Ashokan Farewell.” It was part of a dramatic reading; a woman stood beside the violinist, reading an old love letter from a Civil War soldier to his wife, the last she would ever receive before he was killed in battle. At first my mother thought my tears were from the letter, but I was too little to understand the soldier’s flowery sentiments. It was the music that I understood. I couldn’t sleep that night until my mother promised she would find me a violin.
As I walked Oscar across the hallway, pausing outside Elliott’s door to knock, it felt like I was about to be a part of something big, like maybe this was going to be a moment Oscar would remember.
I knocked, and the playing stopped, and Elliott came to the door. “Hey.” Album-focusing or not, he still looked pleased to see me.
“So this is my friend Oscar,” I said, my hands resting on the boy’s shoulders. “He’s hanging out with me for an hour and was literally pressed against the wall, trying to hear you play. Mind if we come in and listen for a while?”
Elliott crouched down in front of Oscar. “You like the piano?”
Oscar nodded, his face solemn. “Can you teach me?” His voice was so earnest there was no way his words didn’t punch Elliott in the gut just like they had me. The kid was every music teacher’s dream.
Elliott stood and reached out his hand. He looked up long enough to meet my gaze and smile. “Come on in,” he said to Oscar. “I’ll pull a chair right up to the piano so you can sit beside me.”
I settled on the couch in Elliott’s living room and watched as he played for Oscar. He was animated and engaging and funny and such an incredible teacher. By the end of half an hour, Oscar could play a simplified version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” while Elliott played an accompaniment, making the song sound impressive even to my ears. By the look on Oscar’s face, he was completely blown away. As soon as they finished, he looked up at Elliott, all smiles, and said, “Again!”
Elliott laughed. “You practice through once without me, okay?” He slid off the piano bench and crossed to where I sat on the couch. He sat beside me and leaned forward on his elbows. “Does Oscar have a piano at home?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing probably not. This all seemed pretty new to him today.”
“He’s a talented kid. He’s got a great ear, and . . . he needs a piano. You don’t see kids like that every day.”
“Really? A little miniature Elliott, huh?”
“Don’t sell him short. I think this kid has serious talent.”
“Right. ’Cause you’re completely average, Elliott.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Okay, he’s a lot like I was as a kid.”
“So teach him.”
“What? No. I’m not a teacher.”
“Yes, you are. I’ve been watching you the entire time. You’re incredible with him. You are a teacher.”
“Well . . . but . . . I have this album I have to finish . . .”
I wanted to ask him how it was going, but I bit back the words. Living next door, I’d heard enough of his efforts to recognize the only emotion shining through was frustration. “Are you sure holing up in your apartment is providing the inspiration you need? I mean, what could be more inspiring than helping Oscar discover his love for music?” Aside from me, I thought to myself. I could be more inspiring. I could be very inspiring.
He leaned back on the couch. “I don’t know. If you knew the stuff the record label is saying to my agent—I’m on thin ice as it is.”
“I can’t tell you what to do here,” I said with a shrug. “I’m sure Laney will be able to find him a teacher regardless, but maybe it’s supposed to be you.”
“Elliott, listen,” Oscar called from across the room. “I did it without making any mistakes.”
“Good job, Oscar. Can you do it one more time? I’ll come play it with you again in a second.” He turned back to me. “What’s his situation like at home? Will they be able to afford lessons? A piano?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. His mom went through a divorce a couple years ago. She’s interviewing for a job right now, but from the way she talked when she dropped him off, I’m guessing it’s pretty tough.”
Elliott nodded his understanding, then stood and moved back to the piano. “Okay, Oscar. You ready? Let’s do it again.”
As they played their song one last time, I couldn’t stop thinking about Elliott teaching Oscar. If he wasn’t feeling connected to his music or composing with any success, he needed to get outside of his own head. What better way to do that than by serving other people? Especially if people meant a musically inclined little whiz kid.
* * *
Three days later, I checked my phone after my afternoon lessons and had a voice mail from Laney.
“Emma, please call me,” her message said. “You’ll never believe what just happened.”
&n
bsp; She answered her phone after one ring. In the background, I heard the distinct sound of little fingers working through the melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
“First of all,” Laney said. “You did not tell me Elliott Hart was your neighbor.”
“Oh, yeah. You know his music?”
“Not his recent stuff, but I remember watching him on Talent Hunt. I voted for him. You can imagine how surprised I was when my doorbell rang and it was him standing on my front porch.”
I smiled. “He’s a nice guy, right?”
“Emma, he brought us a piano. A keyboard, really, but it’s full size, and it’s beautiful, and it’s so much more than I ever expected. He’s agreed to teach Oscar for free.”
I really wanted to listen to the rest of Laney’s explanation, but it was hard not to race home and find Elliott right that moment. He gave them a piano. I closed my eyes. Could the man be any more perfect? “Oh, Laney, I’m so glad. I’ve never seen a kid like Oscar—the way he just lit up from the music. He’s special.”
“I knew he was special, but he’s just always been so shy. I was afraid no one would ever see him for who he really is. But this—he’s a different kid when he’s sitting at the piano. I can’t get him to leave it alone.”
“Music can do amazing things for kids. I’m sure this will be a good thing for him.”
“Please tell Elliott I said thank you, again. I was pretty much a weepy mess after he showed up this afternoon, then he and Oscar played for me, and I was just so emotional I didn’t really thank him properly. Can you imagine? This world-class pianist teaching my little boy. I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
I resisted the urge to knock on Elliott’s door the second I arrived home. I wanted to say thank you, but I kind of wanted to do a little something more too. What he was doing for Oscar was big. Giving him a keyboard that was probably worth close to two thousand dollars was pretty spectacular, but I was more impressed that he was willing to invest in a relationship with a kid he barely knew for nothing but the love of music.
Chapter 16
I rummaged through my kitchen pantry trying to decide if I had what I needed to make brownies. Elliott deserved a thank-you dessert, and no dessert turned out better than my mother’s homemade brownie recipe.
Lilly wandered out of her room an hour later, lured, no doubt, by the smell of chocolate filling the entire apartment. “Ohh, are those your mom’s brownies?”
I motioned to the empty batter bowl still sitting on the counter. “I saved it for you.”
She squealed and hopped onto the counter after fishing a spoon out of the drawer.
I hated squealing, but for brownie batter, I could almost relate.
“So what’s the occasion?” She slid her spoon across the bottom of the bowl, then licked off the batter with a sigh.
“They’re for Elliott.”
“What? All of them? You mean I have to smell them but not eat them? What kind of a roommate are you?”
“You’ll get some. Don’t worry. I’m making him a brownie sundae.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave me a pointed look. “Does he know you’re making him a sundae? Is he expecting this little overture? Perhaps bringing the ice cream and the caramel sauce so you can snuggle up side by side and make your sundaes together?”
“Shut up. Don’t turn this into something stupid. He just did a really nice thing today, and I want to say thank you. So, a thank-you dessert.”
“What did he do?”
“He gave a piano to a kid. And he offered him free piano lessons.”
“An entire piano? Geez. Way to be generous. A kid you know?”
I nodded. “A friend from church.”
“Know what I think?” She dropped her spoon into the sink and picked up the bowl. “I think you’re falling for this guy.” She peered down. “Would you think I was gross if I just put my whole head inside this bowl?”
I took the bowl from her hands. “Yes. That would be gross. And I’m not falling for him. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, you totally are. I worried the whole beer-brawl punch-out thing was going to throw you, but I’m impressed. You’re sticking with it.”
“What do you mean? Why would it throw me?”
“Here’s all I’m saying. I know you were all worried that you liked Elliott just because of his fame, but that was before you’d really experienced what it actually meant. And what it might mean for you if you guys got together. Now that you have seen it, I kinda thought you might bail.” She slid off the counter and wandered to the fridge. “I mean, you gotta admit it’s not a very Emma-esque lifestyle.”
I grabbed a dish towel off the counter and started wiping down the stovetop, channeling my sudden discomfort into full-throttle stain removal. “So what are you saying? You don’t think I should be interested in Elliott?” I dropped the towel and faced Lilly.
“No! You should absolutely be interested. He’s totally hot. And he’s clearly interested in you. You should go for it. I’m just surprised thoughts of being a celebrity girlfriend haven’t scared you off. Super proud of you. Don’t back down. But, surprised.”
I huffed. “I’m not a celebrity girlfriend. You’re turning this into something it’s not.”
“Not yet, you’re not. But your eyes are all dreamy and hopeful, and I can see exactly where this is going. You’ve crossed over from ‘I like this guy, and maybe I’ll have some fun’ to ‘I’m seriously falling for this guy.’ It’s only a matter of time.”
“I’m just making brownies. Brownies I don’t intend to eat with him, I might add. I’m taking a sundae to his door, then I’m leaving.” I pulled the finished brownies out of the oven and set them on the stove. “Besides, I’m having dinner with Blake next weekend. Blake, who happens to be a lawyer and is interviewing for a job while he’s in town. Did I tell you that part?”
“Hmmm, look at you playing the field.” Lilly smirked and gave me a nudge.
“I’m not playing anything. It’s just dinner and just brownies.”
“What if Elliott invites you in?”
I’ll do a happy dance and say yes. “He won’t ask. He already turned me down when I asked him to the wedding. He’s focusing on his music. Not his neighbor.”
“He will too ask.”
“Then I’ll say no.”
“Ha! You will not.”
I finished washing my hands and flung a few drops of water in her direction. “Brownies,” I repeated. “Not a wedding cake.”
“Fine, fine,” Lilly said. “How long till you cut them?”
“Ten minutes.”
“So plenty of time for you to go change.”
I looked down at my clothes. “Why do I need to change?”
“Because you have flour on your butt. And chocolate on your shirt.”
“Uggh, fine.” I headed down the hallway, wondering what I could put on that wouldn’t look like I’d intentionally dressed up to carry a brownie sundae across the hallway.
“Wear something green,” Lilly called from the kitchen. “You look good in green.”
Something green . . . I grabbed a flowy silk tank top out of my closet. “Have you seen my black cardigan?” I yelled to Lilly.
“You say that like you don’t have forty-seven black cardigans hanging in your closet.”
“Me and everyone else in the symphony. I need the one with three-quarter-length sleeves. With the ribbon trim? And the little pearl buttons?”
I was digging through my clothes hamper when Lilly tossed the sweater at my head. “You left it in the bathroom.”
“Oh, that’s right. I did. Thank you.”
I changed my clothes and threw my hair into a messy bun before hurrying back into the kitchen. “What do you think? Good? Not too dressy?”
“You look perfect. Here.” She handed me three empty bowls.
“Three?”
“You’re not just making him a sundae, are you? All that effort, and we don’t get to e
njoy too?”
I smiled and lined the bowls up on the counter while Lilly pulled the ice cream out of the freezer.
“So how’s Ava?” Lilly asked. “You haven’t mentioned her in a while. Elliott’s gone and stolen all our conversations.”
“More stubborn than ever,” I replied. “I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks. She’s supposed to be working on her concerto for the Cleveland video, but she hasn’t asked me for any more help, I’m sure since things went so badly last time. Mom thinks I need to try to find a way to just be her sister. So far, I got nothing.”
“That’s tough. Why not take her to the mall or something? Let her help you pick out a dress for the wedding.”
“That’s actually a really good idea.” I topped off each sundae with some whipped cream, a drizzle of caramel sauce, and a cherry. “There. Finished.”
Two minutes later, I knocked on Elliott’s door, holding the most fabulous brownie sundae ever made in the history of all brownie sundaes.
“Hi,” I said when he opened the door.
“Hi—holy ice cream sundae; that thing is huge.”
“It’s not just ice cream. There’s a brownie on the bottom too, and it’s the best brownie you’ll ever taste. Says my mom, who I tend to agree with when it comes to things like brownies. Here.” I held it out to him. “This one’s for you.”
He looked surprised, which was dumb because who knocks on your door to show you the sundae they’re getting ready to eat without offering you one? “What is this for?”
“Consider it a thank-you dessert. Like a card but better ’cause you get to eat it.”
“I am in full support of thank-you desserts.” He reached out and took the sundae. “Thank you for this. It looks great.”
“What’s great is what you’re doing for Oscar. I talked to Laney tonight, and she was so overwhelmed she couldn’t even get out a complete sentence. This is so big for them. Thank you.”
“Actually, I’m really excited. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I think you’re right. I think it’ll be good for me.”
“Good. I’m glad.” I took a step back toward my own door. “Well, enjoy.”
He started to close his door, then paused. “Emma, wait . . . Do you want to come in?”
Love at First Note Page 13