He did some mental figuring. “Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six! And they’re all related to you?”
“In one way or another, yes.”
“How come I never knew you had so many relatives?”
“If you’d hung around long enough for the wedding, you would have.”
The remark was as lightly tossed out as the review of the relatives, but it brought on a familiar wave of remorse. At moments like this, Ashley could think of nothing that would surpass the joy of being Zachary’s wife, of knowing that this evening was just one in an endless string, that they would sit like this, winter after winter, held in each other’s arms.
He ran his hand over her hair. “Why the heavy silence? Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. I was just wishing I had stuck around for the wedding.”
He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face to him. “Were you really?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll offer you another shot at it. Anytime you say.”
Their eyes met and held. Every instinct pressed her to throw herself into his arms and say, “Yes, yes, yes!” Sometimes, she could swear there were two distinctly separate people in her head. One of them wanted, above all else, to be this man’s wife, to run his home and bear his children and devote herself exclusively to the joy of sharing his life. But that other person flatly refused to vacate her skull. Like Shakespeare’s shrew, she gave no quarter, giving shrill reminders of how much of herself would be sacrificed in that bargain.
Zach leaned forward to kiss her on the tip of her nose. “Let it alone, honey. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Your mind’s on overtime as it is; I didn’t mean to introduce any heavy issues.” He pulled her back into his embrace, canceling, for the moment, an issue that neither could afford to address until a later, more relaxed time. “On another note, my folks would like to entertain you and some of your friends. Whenever the pressure eases up enough to allow an evening of frivolity.”
Ashley let go of the issue of marriage gladly. Zach was right, this was not the time. “That’s really nice of them. I hope they know it’ll have to be on a Monday night after the opening. Even then, we’ll have to see how much fixing and changing needs to be done.”
“Yes, they understand that. But why don’t you give some thought to whom you’d like to have included. They’re anxious to meet Matt, of course. And Emily, being as star-struck as she is, will have a few requests, I’m sure.” He grinned at her. “Maybe we should invite Kelly and not invite Sammy.”
She returned the smile. “Wouldn’t I love to see him snubbed! But no. I’m afraid petty revenge will have to be foresworn. It ranks somewhat lower on my wish list than having a hit show.”
For a few minutes, they sat silently gazing into the fire, absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally Ashley said, “You’re very quiet. What’re you thinking about?”
“I was wondering how that would feel.”
“That what?”
“Having a hit show. It must be extraordinary, being in a theater with everyone applauding your work. Laughing and crying and clapping. Experiences like that happen to very few people. Very few.”
“I know. I’ve been awfully lucky.”
“You’re awfully talented.”
She looked at him, her face serious. “I won’t be coy and say, ‘Who, me?’ But there’re any number of people just as talented, who’ve worked every bit as hard as I have, who never make it. There’s a definite luck factor, no question. It doesn’t reduce the thrill of success. . . . It just makes me that much more grateful.”
“I can’t quarrel with you. I’m sure there’s a luck factor in everyone’s life; but Ashley, most people’s lives are far more mundane than yours.” He watched the flickering flames leap and stretch on the hearth. “You know, I once read an article about what the author called ‘peak experiences.’ He described them as exceedingly rare moments, perfect little particles of time — an instant or an hour, it doesn’t matter. But it’s when the person feels emotionally lifted beyond himself. Suddenly everything seems absolutely superb, and there’s a sensation of pure exhilaration. His point was that they’re few and far between for anyone, and some people go through a whole lifetime without having any. Yet I should imagine you’ve had a number of them.”
“Funny. When you said ‘peak’ I immediately pictured someone standing on the top of a mountain.”
“Well, that was one of his examples. But I have the feeling that with you it’s more likely to be linked with standing in a theater.”
She frowned, concentrating on the question. “There’s one that comes immediately to mind because it was so incredible. I doubt there’ll ever be another quite like it.”
“When was that?”
“Actually, it was exactly as you said: I was standing in the theater. It was a couple of weeks before I first met you. Bright Side had just had its Broadway opening. There was a preview performance on Saturday, and the official opening on Tuesday. It was amazing, both Saturday and Tuesday nights, the audience jumped up at the end and gave the show a standing ovation. Then we went to Sardi’s to wait for the review, biting our fingernails to the quick; and, God, when they came in they were unbelievably good! It was wonderful, of course, but through it all, my senses were . . . I don’t know, kind of dulled, sort of hazed over. I suppose because of the sheer enormity first of my apprehension and then my excitement.” She sat up, lost in thought, her face alive with vivid memory. “On the Friday night after the opening, I was standing in the back of the theater. I think it was the first time my mind had calmed down enough for me to really hear the reactions of the audience. All of a sudden it struck me, as it honestly hadn’t till then, that I had a hit show on Broadway! Me, Ashley Grainger! Up there on the stage my lyrics were being sung, and my lines were being spoken, and the audience loved it! I’ll never forget the feeling. I’d dreamed about having that happen all my life, but never really believed it would. It was about as ‘peak’ as you can get.” She sighed, then repeated, in a tone very near reverence, “I’ll never forget it.”
Zachary watched her, her eyes alight and face aglow with remembered joy. The experience she’d recalled was, in every aspect, unique. It brought to mind his sister’s comment, when they were skiing in Stowe, that Ashley would have to be crazy to give up her career for the roles of wife and mother. It would, he had to admit, be asking a lot, maybe entirely too much. So what then? He liked to think of himself as a modern man of the eighties, flexible and adaptable to new ideas, new life-styles. But in truth, every factor of his upbringing had equipped him far better for traditional patterns. He had simply assumed that when he married his career would take precedence, that he and his wife would settle down in the Boston area to live their lives and raise their family. He was chagrined to realize that never, in all the time he and Ashley had spent going over and over the demands of her career and finding them incompatible with his, had he actively considered the idea of making major changes in his own work. But how could he? He was the senior partner of one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston. He had a thriving practice that was important and lucrative. The Jordan family had been well placed in Boston society for generations. In every way, he belonged here.
He looked at Ashley’s lovely profile as she stared into the fire. She’d had none of the family advantages he’d had. She had made it completely on her own in one of the most competitive businesses in the world. So how could she be expected to turn her back on her accomplishments and walk away? And Emily had been right on that subject, too. In Ashley’s case, the only place to ply her trade in the big league was New York City. He rubbed his eyes. God, the whole thing seemed so hopeless. But now that they’d come back together, the prospect of parting once again, this time for good, loomed as more insuperable, more ludicrous than any of the other impossible possibilities.
“Zac
h, is anything wrong?”
He jumped. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Ashley studying him with concern. “No, no, nothing. I was just thinking about what you said. It must have been quite a moment.” He cupped her cheek in his palm, acutely aware of the smoothness of her skin, the green glints in her lovely eyes. “You mentioned that one of the high points for a cast is the first time they hear the orchestra.” She looked perplexed. Small wonder, he’d veered sharply off on a new track.
“Yes?”
“When will that happen?”
“Wednesday afternoon.”
“I’d like to be there, I’d like to be in on it.”
Ashley’s eyes lit up with eagerness. “I’d love to have you there to share it with me. It’s really a thrill. Do you think you could manage it?”
“Do you start at two?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule. My first appointment that afternoon is with Jerry, but maybe we can have a working lunch and I can have the others changed.”
She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him. “That would be wonderful, darling, please do try.”
He laid his cheek on top of her head. “I will, I promise.” He would. He’d try.
Ashley sat scrunched down in the middle of the last row, watching the stagehands adjusting the flats. Impossible as it seemed, they had straightened things out enough to run through the play on Tuesday afternoon. On Tuesday evening, they’d had the technical rehearsal, where the actors just stood in their places and mumbled their lines, so lighting and staging cues could be set. That was both exhausting and boring, and by the late end of the night, everyone’s nerves were thoroughly frazzled. She hoped today’s rehearsal would run smoothly. Her eyes, for the dozenth time, darted over to the side door. She prayed Zach would make it.
She had moved over to the Ritz Carlton Hotel, where Matt and Craig and Jerry were staying, on Tuesday morning. The pressure was mounting to tie up loose strings and corner stray lyrics, and she needed to be there with the others, available for consultation as the inevitable crises erupted. The degree to which she missed falling asleep in Zachary’s arms was overwhelming. She wished the show could play Boston for two years, that the transfer to Broadway was unnecessary. The demand on her time would now be constant, and she wanted to have her time free to spend with Zach. God, how had she managed to get herself to this point of no return once again?
She squinted down at her watch. One forty-five. The members of the orchestra had begun to amble in, and the familiar sound of instruments being tuned heightened her anticipation. Hearing the orchestra for the first time might be pure thrill to the cast, but it was a mixed bag to the composer and the lyricist. Just as she began to chew on one edge of a fingernail, Matt slid in to sit beside her, his face set in a grim mask of dread. Matthew’s peak moment of fear occurred when, for the first time in front of the entire company, the orchestra launched into the overture. All those notes he’d so laboriously written for the various instruments, heard, so far, only in his head, were about to become living sound.
Ashley reached over and took hold of his hand. “Don’t panic. We may just survive this.”
“Doubtful. Very doubtful. God. Why did I ever get into this business? Why couldn’t I have followed my father’s advice and been an accountant?”
A picture of Matt sitting at a desk with pen and green eyeshade leapt to mind. She had to laugh. “Do you even know how to add?”
“Of course. I’m very good at math. Mathematics and music have similar structures. You should know that.”
“Umm-hmm. That’s why I’m a lyricist.”
“Here comes Craig. We’re gathering on the life raft. If we go down, we go down together. Hi ya, Craig, have a preserver.”
“A what?” Craig, his usual chipper air noticeably missing, sat beside Matt.
“Never mind. The hour draws near. Saturday night will be upon us before we know it. I wonder what an ex-composer can do as an alternative way to make a living.”
“You can stand in the unemployment line right behind the ex-director.”
Ashley clapped her palm against her forehead. “Stop it, you guys. At least give the show a sporting chance!” At that moment, she saw Zach enter the theater. “Ohh.” She exhaled a long sigh of delighted relief.
Matt followed the direction of her gaze. “Thank heavens. I thought someone had punctured your balloon.” He and Craig stood up. “Hi, Zach. Slide in, you can sit on Ashley’s other side and hold her other hand. But you can’t have this one. At the present it’s my lifeline. I’d hold Craig’s hand, but it’d make him awfully nervous.”
Zachary grinned at them as he edged past. “Why is the air palpitating? Could this be a case of group nerves?”
Craig nodded solemnly. “You better believe it. Good thing these seats are solid or they’d shake to pieces. Nice to see you, Zach. Maybe you can disperse a little calm in this direction.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned over to kiss Ashley as he sat down. “How about you? Are you quavering, too?”
“Oh, my, yes.” Her fingers wove through his and held on tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Zach leaned forward. “So how things are going?” A collective groan answered his question. “That bad, eh?”
Craig replied, “Nah, not really. It’s a tense time, because once the orchestra comes in, you know you’re on the final run. It’s nervous making. Hell, before we turn around it’ll be Saturday night and the whole show will be laid right out there, naked, for everyone to check over and vote on. I guess most of the seats went for a big charity group.”
“Oh, Lord,” Matt moaned, “They’re probably the kind of people who’d like to see a punk rocker fried for breakfast. They’ll boo his first success and it’ll be downhill from there.”
“Yeah.” Craig rubbed his forehead. “And wouldn’t the ‘dear shits’ love that!”
“The dear what?” Zach turned to Ashley with a puzzled look on his face.
She grinned. “‘Dear shits.’ It’s a term used for all the agents and actors and other show biz folk who turn up for out-of-town openings. They always wish you the best of luck, which means they hope you bomb. I don’t know if this is true, but someone told me one agent used to appear at the openings with a script and a flashlight, so he could read during the second act if it wasn’t good.”
“They sound like the sort one loves to hate.”
Craig nodded. “The other side of it is that if the show’s a winner, they are genuinely enthusiastic and full of praise.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Strange business, Zach, no doubt about it. But, boy, I can’t think of any other that can touch it.”
“I take it you like your work.”
“Nothing like it. Nothing in the world. I’ll be at it until they cart me off in a box or I can’t get a job.”
“Hey.” Matt’s hand convulsed in Ashley’s. “Here comes Hans. Oh, God.”
Hans’s arm rose, baton in hand, and silence dropped like a cloak. The musicians straightened, all attention. Then the music started, filling the theater with the thrilling sound only a full orchestra can produce. Everyone in the cast crowded to the front of the stage to listen, grouped in their silence as the tunes of the first act took their turn in the medley. When Hans held the final chord, then dropped his hands, the entire company burst out in cheers.
Zach glanced over at Ashley. Her face was pale, and there were tears running down her cheeks. He leaned over to kiss her, then said, “Matt, it’s wonderful. It really is.”
Matt had scooted down in his seat, his flesh a sickly ashen color. “Too much horn. Dammit, Robbins, you put in too much frigging horn!”
Craig whispered, “Hush up, Matt, it’s starting.”
Zachary grew progressively happier that he’d come as the show wound on. The excitemen
t and the enthusiasm were infectious. Each song, heard with the orchestral accompaniment, was met with oohs and aahs and rewarded with enthralled applause. Ashley’s face now had a smile on it, and Matt had straightened up in his chair. His color had not only returned but been heightened by a flush of pleasure and an upturned mouth. Craig was sitting forward on his seat, socking one fist into the other hand after each song or bit of dialogue, muttering, “Hot damn, that’s it! That’s it!” When Uncle Hermie launched into the “Don’t Count Your Money” song, a surge of proprietary pride rippled through Zachary.
Ashley leaned over and whispered, “Not too bad for your first shot at lyric writing.”
Zach grinned. “You helped it along just a little.” All he’d done was plant an idea, but it was still kind of exciting, a small sliver of the pride of creativity.
When the run-through ended, the whole cast crowded onto the stage to clap and cheer and yell, “Author, author!” Matt and Ashley stood up and walked to the front of the auditorium, accompanied by Craig. Zach insisted on staying where he was. This was their moment, and he was more than content to be one of the observers. As he watched the joyful scene with Ashley and Matt and Craig and Sonja and Hans and all the other creators of this musical play, he was struck by the camaraderie, the exultant high they were all sharing. Through his empathetic happiness, there was a prick of envy. Craig’s words came back to him: “There’s nothing like it in the world.” It was special, no question. And Ashley was a special, elite member of the special group. For just a brief instant, Zach felt very lonely. Then he shook himself impatiently and went up to add his congratulations.
The big night was here. Zachary joined Ashley and Matt and Amy Johnson, who had flown in from New York that morning, for an early dinner in the Ritz dining room. All the waiters came by, one after another, to wish them luck, and the manager had a couple of bottles of wine sent to their table. The air around them was electric. Craig and his wife, Amanda, stopped by their table to say hello before meeting a few close friends. Jerry joined them for one drink, then dashed off to have supper with the Sanderses and the two men and their wives who were on the verge of investing in his future comedy.
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