Hearts Unfold

by Karen Welch

  “I'm a serious musician. I don't like gimmicks.” Stani's voice was soft and drowsy now.

  “Gimmicks?” Emily looked to John again.

  “Something about the marketing, rock star or crossover or the like. I try not to get involved, girl. They're always at it about one thing or another. But this time, the lad's been pretty stubborn.”

  Emily glanced at her watch. “Any better yet?” She laid a hand on his forehead. His color was improved and the tightness around his mouth had relaxed. He opened his eyes cautiously.

  “Yes, I think so. You're a miracle worker, love.”

  “No, we just caught it in time. Now just stay here and rest. I think we should skip the opera tonight. The noise could bring back your headache.”

  “No, I'll be fine, I promise. What time is it?” He made a move to get up and she put a firm hand on his chest, holding him down.

  “We have two hours. Rest! John, can you keep him quiet? I'll go get myself ready in case he's really up to going. What are our dinner plans? I think room service might be the best idea. And John, could you drive us, in case we need to leave the opera early?” Dropping a kiss on Stani's forehead, she took the ice pack to the sink in the little kitchen. “Now, if you two can manage, I'll go visit with Jimmy the elevator boy again. Did you know he went to Harvard? Class of 1930.” She let herself out, picking up Stani's key as she went. “I'll be back, and I expect to find you snoring.”

  “I don't snore!” But she was gone, leaving John chuckling as he poured himself a Coke.

  “Well, lad, I'd say you've got just the woman there to look after you. And a nurse, at that. Not to mention the loveliest smile we've seen in a while. Why is it you waited so long to go looking for her?”

  “Because up until now I've let Milo live my life for me. But no more. That said, I will be doing his blasted recording, his way, I'm afraid.” He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a ragged sigh.

  “Not to sound like I'm on his side, but Milo just wants you to take the next step. Why fight when you know you can do it? You did that little piece for Emily. What did that take you, maybe all of two days? You've got months to work on this Mozart thing.”

  Stani raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, but when I keep you up all hours of the night, don't forget you were the one who encouraged me. Now, I'm supposed to be resting. I can't afford to lose time with her while she's here. Three months without her may kill me, John. I need to store up as much Emily as I can.”

  When Emily let herself back into Stani's suite, he was just coming from the bedroom, shrugging on his shirt. “Still feeling better? No headache?” Without answering, he pulled her into his arms. As he prepared to kiss her, she pulled back. “Stani, don't try to fool me. How's the head?”

  “My head is fine. Spinning just a bit at the sight of you, but I'm sure that will pass if you'll just kiss me.” In her simple black dress, with a single strand of pearls accenting its plunging neckline, she seemed suddenly, stunningly sophisticated.

  “Is it all right? It's old, but I thought it would do to sit in the dark. Martha Jean says a little black dress can go anywhere.”

  “It's ravishing. And very appropriate. But aren't you the girl who left here a while ago in blue jeans?” He stood still as she buttoned his shirt, trying not to stare. “You do know that dress is the most revealing thing I've seen you wear?”

  She blushed. “Too revealing? I could always change.”

  “Don't you dare. I just have to get used to my little farm girl looking so grown up. You're beautiful. And tall.” The heels on her shoes were low by fashion standards, but Stani, in his stocking feet, was forced to pull her head down for the long awaited kiss.

  “I'm sorry.” His finger on her lips silenced her apology.

  “Not sorry. Perfect. Now what is it we're having for dinner? I'm the one who's starving this time.”

  “I ordered lamb chops. It should be here soon. I assumed John would be joining us?” She continued fussing with his shirt buttons.

  “Yes, any minute now, actually. He was very impressed, by the way.”

  “With what?”

  “With the way you took charge earlier. And with the way you seem to take to the big city. And you were so worried you wouldn't be comfortable here.”

  “I didn't realize I could be useful. Besides, the city's not so big. At least not one block at a time. I think I could get used to it. Especially with you around.” This time the kiss was interrupted by the subtle knock of the room service waiter.

  Over dinner John went down the list of the next day's planned events. “And somewhere in between sightseeing and eating, you have a couple of appointments, Stani. Marius and Manny, in fact.”

  “Really? That's a bother. I'm sorry, darling, I completely overlooked the fact that I have to be prepared to leave in another week.”

  “Who are Marius and Manny exactly?”

  “Marius is my hairdresser, and believe me, I would not want to stand him up. And Manny Weinberg is my tailor. New tails for the tour, plus a new overcoat for those brutal German winters. I suppose you could come along if you'd like.”

  She seemed to consider for a moment. “There wouldn't happen to be a shoe store near either of these stops, would there?”

  “A shoe store?” Stani turned to John. “Any idea, John?”

  “I'm sure we can find a shoe store somewhere in Manhattan if we look hard enough.”

  “Now you're just making fun of me. But seriously, I need to find some shoes.”

  Giving her hand a squeeze, Stani smiled. “Darling girl, please stop worrying about it. I don't mind a bit, honestly.”

  With a suspicious grin, John said, “Is there some sort of foot problem?”

  “No, there's some sort of height problem. I'm too tall. I need to find something with lower heels, so I can stop towering over Stani.” At the little quiver of her lower lip, Stani held up a hand in submission.

  “We'll find a shoe store, love. And you can buy all the shoes you like. Just please stop being unhappy. I told you, you’re perfect, just the way you are.”

  He was rewarded with a grateful smile. “Still, some lower heels would make me feel less conspicuous.”

  Unable to contain himself any longer, John laughed out loud. “Emily girl, if you think you can hang about with this lad and be inconspicuous, you'll be sorely disappointed. Now can we finish these chops and get going? I have a pretty good idea tonight will be a good lesson in just how conspicuous you'll be.”

  John was right. Everywhere she looked there was someone watching them. Faces she recognized from magazines and record jackets smiled and waved across the aisles. In the lobby during intermission, Stani was accosted by several autograph seekers and a number of apparently old friends. She struggled to catch names as her hand was repeatedly shaken; and when they returned to their seats, she told Stani she couldn't imagine why he’d ever called himself a loner.

  “Everybody here knows you. And obviously likes you. Good grief, where do you go when you really want to be alone?” She tried to keep a smile on her face as she whispered to him. Several rows down, an elderly couple had turned to stare at them, the lady raising her opera glasses for a better look.

  “I stay at home. I do apologize, love. I didn't expect quite so much attention. I think at least part of it has to do with you. I told you they'd be curious. Are we still just friends, or shall I give you a kiss and really set them buzzing?”

  “Don't you dare! It was bad enough you called me 'darling girl' in front of that man at the bar. Who was he anyway? I swear he looked right down my dress.”

  “Oh, you mean the tall, dark and handsome chap with the martini? Just some Broadway type. He's a notorious womanizer, I hear. At least he has good taste. Now relax; if you don't encourage them, they'll get bored and look at someone else. Are you enjoying the opera, at least?”

  “Oh, yes. It's wonderful! And I'll admit all the attention was a little bit exciting.” The lights went down and the conducto
r came back to the podium. “Stani?” she whispered.

  “Yes, love?”

  “I'm so glad you made me come to New York. I think I love your world.”

  “I'm glad too. I think I love you.” And right there in the middle of an opera house full of people, as the orchestra began to play, he kissed her, a long, tender kiss that she accepted without any hesitation. John pointed out during the ride home that if they really wanted to be inconspicuous, they might try leaving that sort of thing to dark corners and the back seats of cars.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  They had been to the hairdresser's, where Emily's own mane was appraised by the very frank Marius, who advised her to consider a shorter style. At Stani's howl of protest, he had laughed and agreed that her hair was spectacular, but it must cause her neck to ache from the weight. As a parting gift, he’d given her a pearl studded comb, suggesting that she pull her hair up on one side for drama.

  “A little old Hollywood glamor, my dear. You can pull it off you know. And for goodness sake, do something with your nails. You have beautiful hands, but anyone would think you'd been washing dishes with them.” Stani had herded her into the car, bursting with apologies.

  “It's really okay, Stani. He's only telling the truth. I do have dishpan hands. Maybe I'll get a manicure in the hotel salon. Would that be too extravagant?”

  “Not at all, do whatever you like. But don't pay too much attention to Marius. He has a very high opinion of himself. As I suppose he should. He did tame my beastly mop. Peg took me to him, and if you could have seen me then, you'd believe he really is a magician.

  Their next stop was at the little shop of Manny Weinberg, who came from his workroom to greet Stani with open arms. As he fitted the new tailcoat, Emily thought he seemed to be chiding Stani for something, muttering “Much better, much better,” as he pinned and marked the coat. While they waited for the overcoat to be brought from the workroom, she asked him what the little tailor was talking about. Stani blushed.

  “Manny was unhappy with me because he said I had built up my shoulders a bit too much. I started working out and lifting weights during therapy, and he said my shoulders were ruining the lines of his coats.”

  Emily’s eyes sparkled. “I knew you didn't get those muscles playing the violin.”

  “I've given up the weights, too much trouble to lug around. But I do still exercise some, sit-ups and pushups. I like the way it releases tension when I'm traveling. At any rate, Manny seems happier now. He can be a bit of a tyrant about his 'lines', you know.”

  When the new overcoat was tried on, Manny stood back and eyed him critically. “There's something different about you, my young friend. You wear the coat . . .what should I say, more joyously? That's it! You look happy. I've never seen you look happy before.” With an appraising squint, he turned to Emily, his gaze going up and down before meeting her eyes. “Ah, and here is the reason. This gorgeous girl belongs to you?”

  “She likes me, Manny. Reason enough to be happy, wouldn't you say?”

  His eyes twinkling, Manny put a finger alongside his nose. “She doesn't like you, Stani. This girl is in love.”

  Back in the car, Emily snuggled close to him. “He's a very wise man, you know. I liked him. And he obviously likes you. He told me when you were in the dressing room that he had been so worried about you after the accident, but now he thinks you're going to be fine.”

  “He's always been very kind. You're having fun, aren't you, even running errands with me.”

  “I like meeting these people who've known you for a long time. It's just like you meeting Martha Jean and Mr. Harris. Like family.”

  Stani laughed. “Okay, maybe Manny's like family, but I wouldn't go so far with Marius. But I'm glad you liked them. I told you my world isn't so different from yours. Just a lot more traffic.” As if to prove his point, John slammed on the brakes, barely missing the rear of a cab as it swerved into the lane in front of him. Shouting a colorful oath, he blasted the car's horn. Stani pulled her close, as she let out a little squeak and covered her eyes. “Sorry, darling. Our manners aren't quite as nice here, either.”

  Burying her head on his chest, she laughed. “That's okay. It gives you a good excuse to hold on to me.”

  “As if I needed one.”

  The visit to a shoe store recommended by Peg Shannon had proved to be a series of lessons for Emily. After explaining her situation to the very solicitous clerk, she’d been taken past the displays of high-fashion shoes, with their equally high heels, to view a sweet little selection of handmade slippers. Favored by more mature, but equally stylish, customers, and not a few dancers, the shoes were all designed along the lines of a slightly square-toed ballet slipper. But given the variety of colors and materials, from basic black to copper satin trimmed in turquoise rhinestones, not to mention fine leather in every imaginable color, the clerk assured her, these darlings were the answer to her dilemma. As she waited for her initial selection to be brought from the stock room, Emily searched for a price sticker, but Stani provided the information that a shop of this caliber never displayed prices.

  “Never mind, love. If you like them, and they make you happy, the price won't matter.” The shoes, soft black leather with pencil thin straps that crisscrossed her foot, fit like a glove. When they stood together, she was shoulder to shoulder with Stani, and the smile in his eyes told her he was as pleased as she was.

  She tried on several more styles, deciding her favorites were the black and a pair in gold moiré with little tassels on the toe. Notwithstanding Stani's earlier comment, she asked the price. At the answer, she gasped and snatched her hand away from the shoes as if they’d suddenly grown fangs. “Oh, no. I don't like them that much!”

  The clerk, obviously offended, began to pack up the pairs of slippers scattered on the floor.

  “Emily, buy the shoes. As many pairs as you like, love. My treat.” Holding up a cautionary hand, he indicated to the clerk that they needed a minute alone.

  “No, Stani. It would be downright sinful to pay so much for a little pair of slippers. I can't!”

  “Do you like the shoes?”

  “Well, of course. They're lovely, but. . .”

  “Do you want the shoes?” He took her by the arms, staring into her eyes with a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Stani. . .”

  “Answer the question, love.”

  “Yes, but wants are not needs.”

  “I think you need the shoes. If they put to rest the issue of that extra inch or two that seems to bother you so much, we need the shoes. Now you just have to decide which ones you like. I think at least four pair, to start with.” He looked over at the stack of shoe boxes. “I liked the bronze, with the silver band on the toe, and that wine leather seemed to be a color I've seen you wear. But you choose. And if you can't decide on four, get more. But for heaven's sake, darling,” he lowered his voice to a near whisper, “don't make that poor woman put all these shoes back without making a sale.”

  While John packed the boxes in the trunk of the car, Emily tried to insist she would pay Stani back, even if in installments. “It's not right for you to spend money on me like that.”

  He turned to face her in the seat, his gaze uncharacteristically stern. “Emily, I'm only going to tell you this once. Money is no object when it comes to making you happy. If a few hundred dollars is all it takes to please you, or if you needed half-a-million, I would consider it money well spent. I make a ridiculous amount of money, and I want to do some good with it. But if I didn't use a little of it to make the woman I love smile, I would be sadly remiss. Do I make myself clear?”

  “It was almost a thousand dollars, Stani, but yes, you make yourself perfectly clear.” She looked up with the tiniest gleam in her eye, her arms going around his neck. “How can I show my gratitude? Will you accept my undying love, my eternal devotion, as partial payment at least?”

  When John got behind the wheel, he glanced in the rear view mirror.
“Where to?” His answer was a vague wave of Stani's hand. “Oh, for the love of Pete. Don't you two ever come up for air?

  They had been to the museums and the Statue of Liberty, ridden the Staten Island ferry, and walked down Wall Street. She had visited St. Patrick's Cathedral and Trinity Church, Washington Square and Columbus Circle, been to the opera, and seen a Broadway musical. They'd watched the skaters at Rockefeller Center and the street vendors in Times Square. At every turn it seemed they were photographed. Stani remarked that it must be a slow week; every other person of note must be out of town or holed up with the flu.

  Emily quickly realized that no matter where they went, Stani met someone he knew. In restaurants, someone invariably came by their table to say hello. In the theaters, he was greeted by people from all walks of life, arts patrons and fellow musicians, Broadway personalities, and even an usher who had been a classmate at the Manhattan high school. As they were leaving the hotel one afternoon, a man just emerging from a cab had called out to Stani, rushing over to clap him on the shoulder. Tall and spare, with a shock of graying hair falling over his eyes, Emily thought he seemed immediately familiar. She watched him closely as he talked to Stani, apparently thanking him for some favor he had done. When he turned to her with an appraising smile, a cigarette dangling from his lips, her heart began to pound. “You must be the amazing Emily.” He looked back at Stani with a grin. “You didn't do her justice, Stani.” Tossing his cigarette to the pavement, he turned toward the hotel entrance. Over his shoulder, he called back “See you in Berlin!”

  Eyes twinkling, Stani steered her toward the waiting car.

  “Stani, was that. . . that was. . .He knows my name?” She looked back at the disappearing figure of the most celebrated conductor in the city.