“Uh, yes, I feel lots better. I guess it was that brisk walk I took after leaving Madame’s. The, uh, May air cleared my head.”
Catherine cast her an odd look but didn’t say anything more about the mysterious disappearing disease that had affected her daughter for such a short time.
“Well, come inside and sit down. Dinner is just about ready. I believe Maria is already putting everything on the table.”
When Paolo Ferrante joined his family at the table a few minutes later, Allegra made a point of keeping her eyes down. Like her mother, her father was a commanding presence. And, as silly as she knew it was, Allegra couldn’t help feeling that he could read her mind.
Tonight, however, the conductor of the prestigious New York Symphony Orchestra did not seem to be in the least bit interested in either his daughter’s health or her whereabouts that afternoon.
“I must tell you all about the fascinating talk I had today with Vladimir Ashkenazy,” he said, ignoring the steaming bowl of soup that the family’s housekeeper, Maria, had just set down in front of him. As usual, the small balding man talked loudly, moving his hands and changing his expression so often that he dominated the room as if he were an actor on a giant movie screen. “He stopped by during rehearsal to talk about which concerto he plans to perform with us next season.”
“Vladimir Ashkenazy, the world’s finest pianist and my personal idol,’’ Pierre said wistfully. “You two are such close friends, yet the last time you introduced me to him, I was only nine years old! Why, that was ten years ago....”
“Ah, Vlad is a busy man,’’ Paolo Ferrante boomed. “We will have him over to the house again soon. But for now, I must tell you what he said about the Prokofiev concerto....”
“Paolo,” Catherine interrupted in her gentle voice, “before you share your story with us, I think we should tell Allegra the news.”
“News?” Allegra put down her soup spoon and sat up straighter. “What news? And is it good news or bad news?”
“It is very good news,” said her mother.
“Maybe Ashkenazy wants to meet Paolo Ferrante’s charming daughter,” Pierre grumbled.
“It is nothing like that,” Catherine scoffed. “This is news about the summer.”
“The summer?” Suddenly Allegra’s enthusiasm vanished. What news could there possibly be about the summer? Why, she and the other members of Never Too Young already had it all worked out. Rehearsing all day, performing all night.... She gulped. “What news, Maman?”
“Allegra, ma petite, do you remember last autumn when you auditioned for the chance to spend the summer with the American Philharmonic Orchestra up in Clayton, New York, where they are in residence over the summer months?’’
Allegra had to think. There were always so many auditions, so many competitions, so many different judges to play for, that she could hardly keep track. Now that her mother had reminded her, however, it was coming back to her. That audition had gone fairly well, though at the end the two judges who had listened to her play had said nothing more than, “We’ll be in touch in a few months.” She hadn’t thought about it much after that; summer had seemed so far away.
But now she knew what was coming.
“You have been accepted!” her mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful, dear? You’ll be spending six weeks up in Clayton, living on the Clayton College campus, studying with great violinists, performing in a specially chosen student orchestra....” Her eyes were shining. “It truly is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
Six weeks? Allegra was thinking. Six whole weeks in upstate New York, smack in the middle of the summer, far away from here? She knew that she would not be able to swallow a bite of dinner.
Six weeks may not have sounded like a very long time to some people, she knew. But it was a very long time to her. And it would be a very long time to Roy and Tommy and Larry, who were ready to start auditioning, ready to become a real, working rock band.
It was such a long time, in fact, that she knew in her heart that the other members of Never Too Young would soon be searching for a brand-new Rainbow Girl.
Chapter Three
“Pass me some of that suntan lotion, will you, Heather?” cooed Tiffany Forrester as she stretched out her long legs on the chaise longue. She ran her fingers through her waist-length golden hair, then added, “And while you’re up, how about getting me another Diet Coke?”
“Tiffany Forrester, if you lie around in the sun all day, you’re going to get fat, fat, fat!” her friend Heather returned teasingly. “Why don’t you get up and get your own Diet Coke?”
“Oh, I’ll never be fat. I’d die first. Come on, Heather. Be a friend.”
As if to assure herself that the unbearable fate of being anything less than perfect were no threat to her at all, Tiffany ran her hands along her slender torso, already growing tan even though it was still only May. Of course, that was not particularly surprising, considering the fact that ever since the springtime sun had first peeked out in April, she had spent virtually every spare moment lying by the pool in the backyard of her mother’s large house here in Scarsdale, one of New York City’s wealthiest suburbs. And since she never wore more than the skimpiest bikinis, the sun’s rays had a chance to darken almost every inch of her lean body.
“I’m so glad there are only a few more weeks of school left. It’s going to be a wonderful summer,” Tiffany went on, taking the can of diet cola her friend had just handed to her and popping it open. “Just think, two long, glorious months with absolutely nothing to do.”
“Nothing to do!’’ countered Casey, the other girl who was lounging at the pool on this Saturday afternoon. “Are you kidding? Why, over at the club they’re having dances every weekend and tennis tournaments on Wednesdays.... Besides, Tiffany,” she went on in a teasing tone, “don’t you think that Evan is going to be keeping you busy this summer?”
“Oh, yes. Evan.” Tiffany closed her eyes and smiled. Every time she thought about him, in fact, it seemed to be impossible for her not to smile.
Not that having a boyfriend was something new, not by any means. Ever since junior high school, Tiffany Forrester had been one of the most popular girls at the private school she attended. And in her circle, that meant always having a boyfriend, usually one of the most desirable boys from Scarsdale Country Day School, where she had just finished her junior year.
Evan Parker, however, was different. For one thing, he was older. In fact, he had just turned nineteen. For another thing, he had his own apartment. He had just left college, planning to take a year off from Brown University in order to fool around with photography and decide what he really wanted to do with his life. Aside from all that, he was simply the most sophisticated boy she had ever been involved with. All her friends were green with envy, even Heather and Casey, whom she had known since kindergarten.
“Yes, I know Evan and I will end up spending lots of time together,” Tiffany said loftily. “That boy is so infatuated with me he just can’t keep away.’’
“What about getting a summer job?” Heather had just sat up on the beach towel on which she had been lying and was now polishing her toenails with bright red nail polish. “Wasn’t your father threatening to make you do something crazy like work?”
“Oh, Daddy’s gotten over that already,” Tiffany assured her. “It was just a phase. You know Daddy. He’s always talking about building character and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps and all that garbage. It gets so boring, you know?’’
“Good thing he dropped it,’’ Casey joked. “I can just see you working at McDonald’s all summer.”
“Oh, please!” Tiffany moaned. “Don’t even kid about it, Casey! It’s just too horrible to imagine. Why, I’d die. I’d simply roll over and die.”
“Well, I like your father,” said Heather. “I know he’s a little bit stuffy and everything, but I think he’s okay.”
“Daddy’s a doll,” Tiffany agreed. “It’s kind of a drag with hi
m and Mother being divorced and all. But I do love to see him on the weekends when he comes down from Rochester.” She sighed. “I wish he hadn’t taken that stupid new job right when he and Mother split up. I hate flying up there when it’s my turn to go to his house. Going upstate to Rochester, New York, is like going to the moon, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Wasn’t he supposed to come down this weekend?” asked Casey, leafing through the fashion magazine she had just taken out of her tote bag.
“He’s coming down later on today. He had something important to do this morning, he told me.” Tiffany shifted slightly on the lounge, wanting to make sure the sun’s rays were hitting her shoulder. She was hoping her father would take her to a new French restaurant she had just heard about, and she planned to wear a strapless dress for the occasion. “I hope he’ll be in one of those moods where he’s only too happy to write me out a nice fat check. I want to get a new iPod. I don’t like my old one anymore.”
“You don’t like your old what anymore?’’ The unexpected sound of a male voice caused all three girls to jump. “I hope you’re not talking about me, Tiff.”
“Well, well, well,” Heather said as she glanced at the sliding doors that led into the house and saw that Evan Parker was sauntering over to the threesome. “It if isn’t Mr. Ivy League himself.”
Tiffany’s heart was pounding wildly as she sat up and blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. Sure enough, there was Evan, wearing that big grin that always made her turn into Jell-O.
“Don’t tell me you three lovelies don’t have anything to do besides sit around all day, working on your tans,” he teased, heading straight for Tiffany. He sat on the edge of her chaise longue, still grinning.
“Working on our tans is extremely important,” Casey insisted. “Tiffany, Heather, and I consider it a public service to look our very best.”
“Oh, really? Out to break the hearts of helpless young men, are you?” Evan returned.
“What could possibly be more fun than that?” said Heather. “It’s not easy, you know. Looking gorgeous is a full-time job.”
“Except for Tiffany, of course,” said Casey, gesturing toward the blonde in the pale pink bikini on the chaise longue who at the moment looked like something out of the fashion magazine Casey had been reading. “This one over here doesn’t have to work at being gorgeous at all. She just is. And to tell you the truth, I could just kill her.”
“Is that true?” Evan asked playfully.
He leaned over and took off Tiffany’s sunglasses so that he could look deep into her eyes. Suddenly, it was as if the other two girls weren’t even there. She was the only one in his focus. Tiffany could feel a flood of warmth rush over her. There was certainly something to be said for older men.
“Is what true?” she asked, feeling her throat tighten up so much that she could hardly speak. “That Casey is going to kill me?”
“No, that you don’t have to work at being gorgeous. It just comes to you naturally, huh? You don’t even have to lift a finger?”
“If that’s the case,” Heather said, giggling, “I don’t know how she could have possibly gotten that peachy pink nail polish all over her nails.”
“Hey, what do you say we cut out of here?” Evan suggested in a low voice. “I don’t know about you, but it’s a little bit too crowded for my taste.”
Tiffany shrugged, not wanting to appear too eager. “Sure, Evan. Whatever you say.”
She stretched languidly as she stood up, wanting to show off the sleek lines of her torso and her long tanned legs before slipping into the shorts and baggy T-shirt that were folded up beside her. She could tell that her performance wasn’t wasted on Evan.
“Listen, you two, how about if we take off?” Casey suggested. “It’s getting late, and besides, it is your house. Come on, Heather. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone.”
Heather followed Casey’s lead in getting her things together, throwing on a T-shirt and heading out. But not before calling over her shoulder in a singsong voice, “Good-bye, Tiff. Good-bye, Evan. And remember, Evan, if you ever get tired of blondes and decide you want to switch to a brunette, I’m available.”
“At last we’re alone,” Evan said with a sigh once the other two girls were gone. “I like it so much better that way.”
“Actually, we’re really alone. My mother went into the city for the day, and my father’s not coming until tonight. My sisters are at their friends’ houses.... So we have this whole big place all to ourselves.”
Evan smiled. “Well, then, how about going inside and playing house?”
Once they were inside, Tiffany insisted that she simply had to take a shower.
“Aw, come on,” Evan pleaded. “What am I supposed to do while you’re upstairs playing around in the water?”
“I’m covered with this icky suntan lotion. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing in the meantime?”
Tiffany looked at him flirtatiously and batted her eyelashes. “Pining away for me, that’s what!”
Tiffany took the fastest shower she had ever taken in her life. She didn’t want Evan to have to wait too long.... And she certainly didn’t want him to get fed up and leave. He was awfully quiet, and as she wrapped a fluffy mint green towel around herself and dashed into her bedroom, wanting to get dressed and back downstairs as quickly as she could, the silence in the house made her a little nervous. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing.
When she stepped into her bedroom and found him sitting on her bed, grinning at her, she was so startled she almost screamed.
“Evan! What are you doing up here?”
“Pining away for you, that’s what. I always find that I pine much better when I’m on the same floor as the person I’m pining for.”
“Evan,” Tiffany said, laughing, “you’d better get out of here. Come on. I have to get dressed.”
Evan shrugged. “Go right ahead. Forget I’m even here.”
Tiffany was about to start negotiating with him to try to get him out of her bedroom, when she heard someone say, “I suggest that you leave this house right now, young man.’’
She whirled around and discovered that her father was standing in the doorway, his suitcase still in his hand. And the look on his face was anything but friendly.
Evan had already jumped up off the bed.
“Uh, yes, sir,” he said. “I was just going anyway. Uh, sorry about all this. I, uh ...” And he dashed down the stairs, slamming the front door of the house behind him as he left.
“Oh, Daddy, this is not at all what you think,” Tiffany said. She had already twisted her pretty face into a pout, knowing that acting hurt was usually the best means of wrapping her father around her little finger.
But today he looked as if he wasn’t about to be swayed quite as easily as usual.
“Young lady, I want you to get dressed and meet me downstairs as fast as you can. It’s time for you and me to have a long talk.”
“All right, Daddy,” Tiffany said with a sigh.
As she turned to her closet, she caught sight of the strapless dress she had been hoping she’d get a chance to wear that night. The way things were going, however, it looked as if talking her father into taking her out to a fancy French restaurant and buying her a new iPod tonight of all nights might be out of the question, even for a seasoned pro like her.
* * * *
“I can explain everything, Daddy, if you’ll just give me the chance,” Tiffany said in a soft, little-girl voice as she came downstairs a few minutes later. She was wearing a prim pink-and-white flowered dress, one she hated but which she always felt made her look sweet and innocent.
But her father’s mood, she could see, hadn’t improved at all.
“No, Tiffany,” he said firmly. “This is one time when I’m going to do all the talking. Sit down, please.”
With an obedient nod of her head, Tiffany sat down on the ed
ge of one of the living room chairs, white with bright-colored shapes splashed all over the fabric. She kept her blue eyes fixed on her father as if she intended to pay close attention to the lecture he was obviously about to give her. In reality, she was trying to decide whether or not to ask if she could invite Heather to go with them when he got this over with and finally agreed to take her to the French restaurant.
“Tiffany, for a long time now I’ve been concerned about the direction you seem to be drifting in. You spend too much time with your friends and not enough time studying. Your mother leaves you on your own too much. Why, sometimes it seems as if all you care about is how your hair looks or ... or which dress you’re going to wear that night!”
“Daddy, that’s simply not true,” Tiffany protested.
But her father held up his hands for silence. “And now this new boyfriend of yours. Tiffany, he’s simply too old for you. Too mature. A college boy with his own apartment ... well, I’ve never approved. And now, after what I saw today ...
“But I have a solution. Everything is taken care of. I worked out all the details this morning, making telephone calls and talking to the people I needed to talk to. Of course I had to pull a lot of strings, especially since your cello playing is not exactly inspired....”
“The cello! What does that have to do with anything? Why, I can hardly even play that stupid thing!”
“I know,” Mr. Forrester said with a frown. “There’s just one more example of how you simply refuse to apply yourself. You’re a smart girl with a lot of potential, but I see you wasting it all....”
“So what’s the point, Daddy?” Tiffany could no longer keep her impatience from showing. “What’s this ‘solution’ you’ve come up with?”
Mr. Forrester took a deep breath. “I’ve found a program upstate on the Clayton College campus that I want you to attend this summer. It’s a music program, one that ties in with the American Philharmonic Orchestra. You’ll be studying the cello and working your tail off and meeting other kids who are really serious about something in their lives....”
Going Solo Page 3