by Karis Walsh
Synopsis
Sometimes conformity and control are only shields, and all it takes is the right woman to shatter the illusions forever.
Andrea Taylor craves peace in her life, no matter what the personal sacrifice. She arranges her career as a violist, her relationships with family and friends, and even her love life so she can avoid strife at all costs. Everything is going according to plan until she meets Brooke Stanton the night before Brooke’s wedding rehearsal and her ordered existence falls apart.
When Brooke hires a string quartet to play at her rehearsal dinner, she doesn’t expect to meet a woman who threatens the security of her already predetermined future. Suddenly she has doubts about the conventional path she has chosen and desires she can no longer ignore.
In an eclectic neighborhood in Seattle, Washington, these two women face a life-altering decision—will they fight the attraction that threatens their carefully structured lives or take a chance on finding the harmony only love creates?
Harmony
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Harmony
© 2011 By Karis Walsh. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-534-5
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: August 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Acknowledgments
Thank you to…
My family, for wholeheartedly supporting every dream I choose to pursue.
Radclyffe, for turning away from her own beautiful writing long enough to make a difference in LGBTQ publishing in general, and this writer’s life in particular.
Sheri, for creating such a gorgeous cover, and the “behind the pages” BSB staff, for tirelessly working to produce such quality products.
And my editor, Ruth Sternglantz, for sharing her insight and knowledge as she helped me turn a scruffy manuscript into a book. I had fun and learned a lot—can it get any better than that?
Dedication
For Mom
With love
Chapter One
Andy Taylor hurried through the well-dressed crowd in the church foyer, carefully keeping her viola case from knocking into anyone’s legs, more concerned about jostling her instrument than snagging nylons or bruising shins. The number of people she had to avoid meant she wasn’t as late as she had feared, and she sighed with relief when she finally made it through the gauntlet to the door that led into the sanctuary. She pushed through the swinging door and made her way quickly up the outside aisle toward the rest of her quartet.
“You’re late,” Tina said, propping her violin between her legs and reaching for Andy’s music.
“No shit,” Andy whispered. The wedding party clustered around the altar, forming and reforming groupings for pictures like a well-trained school of fish. She breathed a silent prayer of gratitude that the photographer had delayed the start of the ceremony. She handed her viola to Richard to tune while she tightened the horsehair on her bow and slid a cake of rosin across its surface. He returned the instrument as Tina plopped her music, arranged in the proper order for today’s ceremony, on her stand.
“Late night?” David asked with a wicked grin, his arm draped across his cello as he watched the silent performance of his three partners. “Did Her Highness need an ego boost before tonight’s concert?”
“Her ego needs several boosts a night,” Tina said with a frown. “So Lyssa wakes up on top of the world, and we’re stuck with a worn-out shell of a violist.”
Andy glared at her friends. Richard, as usual, didn’t add any comments about her sometimes lover, but from the expression on his face it was clear he agreed with the assessment of the other two. Lyssa Carlyle, Andy’s colleague in the Seattle Symphony, always managed to fall to pieces when she had a violin solo in a big concert. She would arrive on Andy’s doorstep, weepy and practically begging for attention, and Andy let her in every time. After a night of flattery and exhausting sex, Lyssa would leave with a smile, ready to win the adulation of her audience. She was blissfully unconcerned with Andy’s own performance schedule, needs, or satisfaction. And Andy was well aware that after Lyssa’s concerts she would celebrate with one of her adoring fans, not with Andy. She and Lyssa would have to find a better compromise if their relationship could have any sort of future, but for now it was easier—and more predictable—just to play along as expected. Deep inside she knew the quartet was right and she was acting like a doormat, but she would never admit it out loud.
She bit back a rude retort about minding their own business when she saw the bride making her way over to them, walking sideways so her skirt would fit between pews. Andy assumed there must be a white dress somewhere under all of those rhinestones, and she hoped the petite brunette wouldn’t collapse under the sheer weight of it during the ceremony.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said to Andy. “I was so worried when I only saw three musicians.” Andy smiled tightly at the bride even as she silently chastised herself. She had almost been late for the gig, and Lyssa’s ego was no excuse for spoiling someone’s wedding day.
“Now, I hate to be a Bridezilla, but I have one little request,” the girl continued, seemingly oblivious to the reaction that reference provoked from the musicians. Andy silently damned the show that made it seem cool to be obnoxious. They should be allowed to raise their fee every time that word was mentioned.
“It’s your day,” Andy jumped in, not trusting the other members of the group to answer politely.
“I would prefer that the help not socialize with the guests. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Andy answered truthfully, wondering if anyone could really think they took these gigs just so they could chat up someone’s Aunt Martha and Uncle Pete after the ceremony.
“Good. Now we’ll be seating the guests soon, so you can start playing anytime,” the bride said before heading back to the photographer.
“The help?” Richard sputtered.
Andy tried not to laugh at his indignant expression. He was accustomed to a little more respect as a professor at a prestigious private college. “Don’t worry,” she said, patting his arm. “I know where she works. The next time I’m at the Gap, I’ll leave a whole shitload of clothes in the dressing room for her to put away.”
David played a bit of “God Save the Queen” pianissimo, and Andy glared at him before pasting on a smile as the bride returned.
“One more thing. I hope you won’t mind leaving through the back exit after the ceremony.”
“Of course not,” Andy assured her. She stood up and helped the bride tug her dress free when it snagged on the pew’s upholstery. A rhinestone dropped on the floor, and Andy quickly kicked it out of sight since she knew from experience even something so tiny could upset the delicate balance of a wedding day. Her first priority was to keep the bride calm. She would worry about her quartet’s wounded pride later when she ushered them out the back way.
“Damn
,” Tina muttered as the bride slithered back between the pews. “I was hoping to get to know that tall bridesmaid. She ought to be all too willing to get out of that hideous dress.”
*
In spite of the pre-wedding drama, the ceremony itself went smoothly. Andy relaxed as she and her viola provided a measured harmony to the traditional wedding melodies. Even the stress of dealing with brides and grooms as they planned these involved affairs was worth it for these few minutes of peace and beauty. Andy was under no illusion that the marriages themselves would hold on to those attributes, but for a short time everyone could smile at one another and believe in true love. When she was a kid, Andy used to console herself during her parents’ routine fights by picturing them on their wedding day. She figured they must have been in love at that moment, and she would try to force them back to happiness using only her youthful imagination. It had never worked, of course, but she still enjoyed being a part of the first moments of a marriage when everyone was still full of hope.
When the time came, the quartet did try to leave by the back door, but apparently the bride hadn’t noticed the alarm system and emergency exit signs. Andy decided it would be better to risk the bride’s wrath by mingling with her guests than to cause a panic by setting off the alarm, so she tried to keep the group moving quickly as they pushed their way through the crowd. Richard set off with purpose, but David seemed intent on breaking the bride’s first rule by chatting with anyone who made the briefest eye contact with him, and Tina rubbernecked as she searched for her chosen bridesmaid.
“Beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it?” David asked random people as Andy herded him along, trying in vain to spot Tina who had disappeared at the top of the steps. “Are you a friend of the bride? Wasn’t she a vision?”
Andy grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the parking lot as Tina reappeared by her side, waving a small slip of paper.
“Too bad we’re not playing at the reception,” she said with a wicked smile. “I’ll bet I could have gotten more than her phone number after a few glasses of champagne.”
Andy shook her head at her unrepentant friend. Tina didn’t need to moonlight as a musician since she made a good salary as a graphic designer, and Andy was certain she only took these wedding gigs to increase her dating pool, not her bank account. With her glossy brown hair and perfect body she managed to make out quite well—literally, all too often. “You guys are impossible. Is it too much to ask that we keep them happy for one hour so they’ll recommend us to the next in line to get married?”
“We’ve got plenty of bookings as it is, and it’s nearing the end of wedding season,” Richard said as they met up with him at his van. He handed Andy a pile of manila folders. “Thank God you get to meet with these damned women in person since you’re so intent on pleasing them.”
She groaned and shifted her viola case so she could better balance the stack of paperwork. Richard managed the group’s website and juggled their potential bookings with their individual schedules. But as soon as a date was set and any personal contact was required for planning, the brides became Andy’s responsibility. “Why is this my job again?”
“Honestly? You’re the only one who cares enough to put up with them. You’re great at it, and you’re going to love October Fifth.” He tapped the top folder.
They were in the habit of referring to the brides by wedding date instead of name. “October Fifth, check,” Andy said, peering in the slim folder. “A real bitch, I take it, since you’re so thrilled to pawn her off on me?”
“No,” Richard said with a slight frown. “She’s more of the distracted-bride type. It’s a last-minute booking, and she didn’t know what music to pick or how many songs we should play. Flaky. Hopefully she’ll have the wedding program set by the time you meet, but you might need to be more firm this time and get her to make some decisions.”
“Firm?” Tina asked, sliding the folder from Andy’s grasp. “I’ll be glad to meet with this one.”
Andy snatched October Fifth away from the grinning Tina. “He didn’t mean whips-and-chains firm,” she said. “I can handle it. No problem.”
Chapter Two
Two days later, Andy stood in the doorway of a downtown coffee shop during the lunchtime rush and scanned the room for October Fifth. She usually got a little tense before these bridal consultations since she never knew what to expect. Most of the brides were fun and easy to work with, but there was occasionally one who made her want to quit this business for good. A lesbian who still couldn’t legally marry in most of the United States—including her home state of Washington—didn’t seem to be the obvious choice when it came to helping people plan any part of a wedding, but Richard was right when he said she was the best one for the job. And he had been right about October Fifth. Most brides had requests for favorite songs or music from recent movies and at least a tentative schedule for the ceremony listed in the files that Richard compiled. This bride seemed to know very little beyond the date of her wedding. Even on the phone, she had seemed distant and vague when Andy called to set up this meeting. Andy had been the one to suggest this spot since it was close to the law firm where the bride worked as a paralegal.
Although she didn’t have a physical description of October Fifth, other than her age of twenty-two, Andy quickly spotted her in the busy coffee shop. Except for a guy focused on his laptop, she was the only person who was sitting alone. She wasn’t watching the doorway, like people waiting for a stranger usually are, but was instead staring out the window. Andy caught her breath as she looked across the room at the unmoving woman, only breaking her stare when someone jostled her from behind. She went to the counter and ordered a soy latte so she could collect herself for a moment before she met the bride. She had expected a ditzy young girl, but this woman looked older than the age listed in her file. Even seated, Andy could tell she was tall, and she wore a snugly fitted navy suit that hinted at full breasts and long legs. A plain rubber band held her hair, just that honey shade that edged away from brown and toward blond, in a high ponytail. Her appearance disconcerted Andy for some reason, since something about her seemed out of place. Maybe because she was an oasis of calm in the midst of a room full of chatting couples and groups, or because she lacked the expression of excited tension that Andy expected on a bride only days before her wedding.
It was definitely not because Andy felt any sense of attraction to her, or any curiosity about what was under that conservative blue suit.
Andy grabbed her drink and made her way over to October Fifth’s table. She remembered Tina’s grin when Richard told her to be firm with this one, and she nearly dropped her latte. “Jesus,” she murmured as she shook herself mentally. Maybe this bride would have been safer with Tina.
“Brooke Stanton?” she asked as she approached the table, reminding herself in time not to actually call the woman October Fifth to her face.
Light blue eyes met Andy’s like laser beams, and she had to reach out and use the back of a chair to steady herself. Brooke’s gaze was blank for a moment as she simply stared at Andy.
“I’m Andrea Taylor,” Andy continued, unsure now if she had found her client or had instead let her desire to talk to the beautiful woman lead her to the wrong conclusion. She felt a short-lived flash of hope that this really wasn’t the straight soon-to-be Mrs. Foster. “My quartet is playing at your wedding?”
Brooke finally blinked and seemed to refocus her attention. “Yes, I’m Brooke. Sorry,” she added with a humorless laugh, “you caught me daydreaming.”
Andy pulled out the chair she had been gripping and sat down. “Perfectly natural,” she said, keeping her tone light. “You must have a lot on your mind with the wedding and all…”
Brooke nodded vaguely and looked around the room as if noticing her surroundings for the first time. “How did you know who I was?”
Andy gestured at the binder on the table in front of Brooke. It was thick and white with cutout flowers and lacy hearts glued to the
front cover. “Typical bridal accessory,” she said.
“Jake’s little sister made this for me,” she said, giving it an awkward pat that pushed it across the table slightly. “Luckily she filled it with checklists and pictures or I wouldn’t have known where to start.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot that goes into planning an event like this,” Andy said, pulling out her own notebook that contained music and sample programs and setting it on the table next to Brooke’s more ornate binder. “At least I can help make this part of it easier for you.”
Andy was trying to slip into the persona of professional musician that she used with her more emotionally challenged brides, but Brooke leaned across the table and caught her off guard with those crystal eyes.
“Are you married, Andrea?”
“No. And most people call me Andy,” she added, remembering too late that the point of using her full name was to maintain a professional distance.
“Not married?” Brooke asked. Her expression remained neutral, and Andy found herself curious about Brooke’s assessment of her. “You must be dating? Serious boyfriend?”
“I have a girlfriend,” Andy said, and then amended her statement. “Sort of.”
“So you’re a—”
“Right now I’m just a viola player,” Andy said as she tapped the form in front of her with a pencil so she could shift the conversation off her life and back to music. She was unsure why she had shared any personal information with a woman she had just met. A client no less, and a straight woman who was about to be married.