“Two kick-ass women,” Ellen added. “Let me tell you a little story about why Thelma has that cast on her foot.”
So she told him the story of the night before, leaving out her own part in it, and enjoying his exclamations immensely. When she was done he said, “You should write that down.”
Ellen stood up and smiled. “I already did,” she said. “What time is it?”
Seth shrugged. “I think it’s, like, seven? You going to work?”
“No,” Ellen said. “I took the night off. I’ve been really . . . busy lately, and I just thought I could use a break. Justice and Temerity are staying with you, right?”
“Right.” Seth focused hard on Runt for a moment, and the dog’s tail thumped the floor as it wagged. “Justice, he’s okay, isn’t he?” Seth asked.
“Yeah,” Ellen agreed. “He’s okay. Lots of people are. Not everyone, as we both know, but more than you’d think, I’m finding out.” Ellen smiled again and went upstairs to get her coat. She paused in the window to look across the street.
And found someone looking back. The woman raised a hand and waved. With a sense of unreality, Ellen waved back.
When she went back downstairs, Temerity was coming out of the hallway with her violin. “Do you guys mind if I practice a little bit?” she asked.
Seth looked curious, watching the instrument with suspicious, narrowed eyes, but he agreed, “Sure.”
“I’m going out,” Ellen told her.
“You’re going out?” Temerity cocked her head and smiled impishly. “On a Tuesday night? Anywhere in particular?”
“Yes, in fact,” Ellen told her, ignoring the flush of heat to her cheeks.
“Uh-huh.” Temerity sat down and began to play a few simple notes, then she built on it with harmonies until it was happy and full. Like me, thought Ellen, smiling. She opened the door and stood for a moment on the landing.
Temerity stopped playing and tilted her head. She heard it, too. Lush piano music was wafting up the stairwell. It was too clear to be coming from behind the heavy fire doors that sealed off each loft. Ellen went to the railing and peered over it. On the second-floor landing, she could just make out that the door was propped open.
Ellen spun back and walked straight to Temerity. She took her arm and pulled her up off the sofa. “What are you doing?” Temerity asked.
“Making myself useful.” Ellen dragged her, violin and all, out the door and onto the landing.
The music was glorious here in the echoing stairwell. They both stood listening as Seth leaned his head around the doorjamb and Runt whined quietly. Seth patted the dog’s head and he relaxed into happy panting.
Ellen leaned toward Temerity and whispered, “Do it.”
“Do what?” Temerity said.
“Find out. Take the chance. It’s for you, and you know it.”
With a little tremble of her lips that stretched into a shy smile, Temerity lifted the violin, nestled her chin against it, and drew the bow.
The melody below was joined by a harmony from above. They connected in the middle of this stairwell in a city, sent and received by two like souls making something out of nothing.
Something new, Ellen thought.
Alchemy.
The streets were misty and cold, but the smell of snow was in the air. Ellen walked ten blocks, watching the way people hunkered down away from the cold. As if they could avoid it, she thought, amused. At last she came to the place she’d been seeking. She bought a ticket, even making tentative eye contact when the lady in the booth told Ellen to enjoy herself, went through the lobby and into the darkened room. She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dim, shimmering light.
When she found what she was looking for, she went and sat down. Rupert started and turned to see who had chosen the seat right next to him in the almost empty cinema. Ellen smiled shyly and then turned her eyes up to the screen. She watched, enthralled and embraced by the story that unfolded before her in shades of silver light, like rain, like mist, like magic.
And she was content.
Acknowledgments
A million thank-yous to the team at Putnam, especially Nita Taublib, who keeps me on my toes and at my computer, and Meaghan Wagner, who keeps me sane and laughing. To my friends at City of Hope hospital, Dr. Clarke Anderson, the nurses, and the social workers, who make such a difference in the world, I thank the universe you are out there, making life and its trials just a bit easier for the innocents who suffer. As always I am grateful for the constant love and support of my family, Joseph, Creason, and Caleb; how magnificent you are. This book would never have been written if it weren’t for Paul Fedorko. I’m the luckiest client in bookdom to have an agent so supportive and kind. And last, I have to acknowledge my author friends who have said such kind things, helped me learn the craft, and been there to answer all my dumb questions. Julie Leto and Julie Kenner, you rock!
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