by Anna Adams
“It was my song too, Matt. Believe me, I wasn’t pleased to hear your ex-girlfriend sing my part with her high-pitched, nauseating screech,” Maude snapped.
“Lindsey’s voice at least is harmonious. Bradfield’s incomprehensible grunts are completely off-key although he’s spent years training with my aunt.”
“You and Lindsey Linton belong together because you both get on my last nerves!” Maude yelled.
“You and Thomas Bradfield belong together because neither one of you can be trusted! You should know better than to go around singing songs from your future album!” Matt yelled back.
The pair glared angrily at each other. Then Maude turned around and stomped out of the kitchen.
“Mark my words, Mathieu Beauchamp,” he spoke aloud to himself. “This is the first and last time you ever spend hours in a museum for ANY girl, especially the ones going by the name of Maude Laurent.”
Chapter 11
“Alan, as usual, is all riled up,” James Baldwin declared at the dinner table. “Ever since Thomas stole your song and made the Billboard Hot 100, Alan has been talking about suing Glitter Records.”
“Lawyers, huh,” Victoria said contemptuously. “That is never a good idea.”
“That’s what I told him. He seems quite set on it however. I keep telling him it will be impossible to prove. Even if we won, it would still be months of bad press for Soulville Records and Maude.”
“You’re right. She can’t launch her album in the midst of a trial,” Jazmine agreed.
“Thomas should still pay for what he did, though,” Cynthia remarked. “Maybe a trial could be a good way to start. He had no right to steal her music from her.”
“I agree with you, Cynth,” Maude put in. “However I plan on beating him fairly. I’ll knock his single off the Billboard Hot 100,” Maude said, her eyes sparkling.
She was more than determined to beat Thomas and Lindsey by releasing a greater hit. She knew “Betrayed But Not Broken” was solid, and this time no one would steal it from her. She just wished Alan would stop watching her every move like a hawk.
“He’s at n°13. I’m sure he could have been in the first three if he had used our musical arrangement instead of that dreadful, ear-piercing beat he used,” James reported, wincing.
“Right, Dad, because stealing her lyrics wasn’t enough, he really should’ve taken her musical arrangement, too!” Jazmine exclaimed sarcastically.
The whole table laughed.
“He’ll be another one-hit wonder, I’m sure,” Victoria said sympathetically. “I really don’t think suing is the right way. We have always managed to keep lawyers out of Soulville’s business, and I think it should remain so.”
“Come on, Mom, lawyers aren’t all bad,” Cynthia argued. “Nathalie Fern, founding member of your women’s rights association is a lawyer, and she’s great.”
“She’s probably the only one I know of. Believe me when I tell you most of them can’t be trusted.”
“I completely agree,” James chimed in. “Remember that ex-boyfriend of yours, Vic. Ted Willow. He became a lawyer and the worst of scoundrels, too. But then, I never trusted him, even back then.”
Victoria nodded in agreement while her children gasped in surprise.
“Ex-boyfriend?!” they yelped in unison.
Victoria laughed.
“Oh please, kids,” she said waving her hand nonchalantly. “You do know your parents had a life before you, don’t you?” she mocked them.
“I didn’t,” Ben replied mournfully.
“Mom probably had more of a life than Dad, because he didn’t care about much else but music back then,” Jazmine teased.
“As if that’s changed,” Cynthia giggled.
They all laughed. Maude could almost picture James as a sixteen-year-old band geek.
“ A –hem,” James cleared his throat. “I think we are growing further and further from the initial topic.”
“Yeah, lawyers stink!” Ben exclaimed, pinching his nostrils.
“That isn’t true.” Cynthia said softly. “And I firmly intend on becoming one,” she added half-defiantly, half-bashfully.
Dead silence filled the dining room. Victoria’s fork hung limply in mid-air, Jazmine, who was drinking, almost choked and Maude looked around the room worriedly.
“What?” croaked Victoria.
“I want to become a lawyer,” Cynthia repeated, her voice firmer.
“You’re at Julliard,” James affirmed as if that was the answer to everything.
“I want to become a lawyer,” Cynthia repeated as if those were the only words coming to her mind. “I’ve been meaning to announce this news to you for a while, but I—”
“This news!” Victoria spluttered. “Don’t you mean Peter Longarm’s news?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Victoria,” James said gently.
Cynthia looked taken aback as Victoria rose from her chair.
“You know perfectly well what I mean, Cynthia. Two months ago, Peter announced he wanted to become a politician, and now, all of a sudden you want to become a lawyer?” she hissed.
“I—” Cynthia stuttered miserably.
“I thought I had raised my daughters to think for themselves, not to stand behind a short, showy, arrogant, narrow-minded politician!” she hissed fiercely.
Then she walked out of the dining room.
James was as surprised as Victoria and stood up as well.
“Dad,” Cynthia pleaded.
“You might have announced this piece of news in a proper manner, Cynthia,” he declared before leaving the table.
“That went well, Cynth,” Jazmine said after her parents had left. “Since when do you want to become a lawyer anyway? This is the first I hear of it.”
“It has absolutely nothing to do with Peter,” Cynthia explained. “Mom is totally blowing this out of proportion! I would never choose my career according to Peter’s political ambitions.”
“It is true that a lot of political wives started out as lawyers: Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama, Elizabeth Edwards, Alicia Florrick in The Good Wife,” Jazmine pointed out.
“I actually haven’t even told Peter yet. I’ve never even discussed it with him. I was planning on telling him when I saw him this evening. I’ve been working with Nathalie Fern every Friday and Saturday afternoons since January and I really love it.” Cynthia’s eyes brightened as she spoke of her internship.
“Just give them a little time,” Jazmine sighed. “They obviously can’t imagine that a Baldwin could make a career out of anything else than music.”
“Especially something as boring as law,” Ben added.
Cynthia narrowed her eyes at her brother, who hid behind his napkin.
“Let’s face it, our parents have always had a thing against lawyers. I don’t think they would have minded your change of calling so much had it been anything else but the law,” Jazmine acknowledged, wrinkling her nose.
“I’m guessing they thought you wanted to work in the music industry since you entered Julliard,” Maude put in. “They’ll need time to adjust.”
“I could never be a lawyer,” Jazmine said, thinking aloud. “No briefcase would be big enough to carry my bass guitar. And I absolutely cannot part with it,” she said.
The doorbell rang, and Cynthia rose from the table.
“That must be, Peter,” she said. “He can join us for dessert.”
“I am sooo full. There’s no more room for dessert,” Jazmine moaned, stashing large bites of food in her mouth hurriedly.
“Jazmine! You haven’t finished your plate! Maude, are you leaving, too?” Cynthia asked.
“Sorry, Cynth, I’ve got loads of work to do this evening,” Maude answered, gulping down her water before scurrying out of the dining room.
Cynthia rolled her eyes as she watched her siblings vanish one by one before her eyes. Ben didn’t even bother to find an excuse and just took his plate to finish his dinner upstairs.
Maude made a quick stop in the living room to check if she’d received any mail. A stack of unopened letters was piled on the coffee table. She rummaged quickly through them. Gas bill, water bill, a magazine subscription for Victoria Williams Baldwin, Jazmine’s April issue of Vogue, and a New York Times special edition.
Nothing for Maude.
Maude hurried up to her room and turned on her laptop. She checked her emails for the hundredth time that week and nearly shrieked when she saw she’d received a new message from the CNAOP. She read it.
“Ms. Laurent,
The CNAOP has well received your request to know the identity of your two parents. However, we cannot give you their identity for the following reason. You were born Maude Laurent on the September 7th 1995 to an unknown mother in Paris at the Bichat Hospital.
According to the law of 1993, a mother can give birth under the name X when she wishes to keep her anonymity as well as the father’s name. This law was meant to protect mothers who are in danger, and there is no way for you to discover what your mother’s name was seeing as she did not want to be found. However, according to French legislation, mothers have been encouraged to leave letters, objects and information in case their child were to look for them. This is not an obligation. But it is our mission to give these things to the abandoned child if he or she seeks to receive them.
In your case, your mother left a sealed box in your name that hasn’t been opened. For you to retrieve it, you must come to Paris with your identity card or passport to ascertain your identity.”
Maude reread the email several times, her head spinning with confusion.
Her mother hadn’t wanted her to know who she was. And yet, she had left her a box, Maude thought, hopefully. Maude reread the email, “You were born on September 7th, 1995, in Paris at Bichat hospital.” She was born in Paris! The Ruchets had always led her to believe she’d been born in the North of France. No wonder she’d always felt an inexplicable attraction to that city. Her heart beat a little faster as she read “This law was meant to protect mothers in danger.” Had her mother been in danger at the time of her birth? And from whom? Was she not with her father at the time? Was her father the danger?
Maude shut down her laptop firmly. She couldn’t let this email drive her crazy. She’d find a way to go to Paris when she returned to France, but right now there wasn’t much she could do.
Maude walked out of her room and almost bumped into Ben and Jazmine, hiding at the top of the staircase. She crouched next to them.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“It’s the fight of the century,” Ben whispered back.
“Cynthia just told Peter she wanted to become a lawyer,” Jazmine explained excitedly.
“What?! Do you mean I’d have to give up my job to support your political career?” Maude heard Cynthia yell.
Cynthia looked like she was about to wring Peter Longarm’s neck with her two bare hands while he looked stiff as ever, cautiously taking two steps away from his furious girlfriend.
“You can’t be serious,” Peter spluttered in disbelief. “You can’t imagine being anything other than a housewife. You do know that behind every politician stands a devoted woman.”
Cynthia glared, trying to steady her voice.
“And I suppose that you expect me to stand behind you on the day you’ll be squirming in front of a row of reporters stammering, ‘I had no sexual relations with this woman.’”
Peter, shocked at Cynthia’s vehemence choked, “That is preposterous! How can you—”
“How dare you stand in front of me, ordering me how to shape my life to better suit your flimsy pseudopolitical ambitions!”
“Flimsy pseudopolitical ambitions,” Peter repeated wanly.
“And why would I abandon my career? Because you’re the man, and you said so?” Cynthia grinned wickedly. “Not only would you make a dreadful politician and husband, but you’re also not that great of a boyfriend. You and I are over.”
At the top of the stairs, Jazmine and Ben gave each other silent high-fives, and Maude laughed silently at their ensuing victory dance.
“You can’t be serious, Cynthia.” Peter whispered almost savagely. “My family expects us to announce our engagement soon.
Cynthia laughed dryly.
“Is that so? I wonder how they got that crazy notion into their heads seeing as you never even proposed, thus refusing me the pleasure of rejecting your request. I’m guessing you thought this was a done deal.” Cynthia remarked flippantly as she ushered Peter to the front door.
“Cynthia, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Peter warned. “I’ll be a great man some day and—”
“And when the future Mrs. Longarm gets sick of standing behind you, I’ll handle your divorce and charge you ridiculously high fees. For now, adieu!” she cried triumphantly as she slammed the front door in Peter Longarm’s astonished face.
Cynthia then marched towards the staircase and, without even looking up spoke to her siblings.
“You can continue your victory dance downstairs if you like.”
“We’re good here,” Jazmine answered cautiously.
But Ben gleefully slid down the bannister and landed in front of his eldest sister.
“You were awesome, big sis!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure we’re never going to see Peter again?”
“Positive,” Cynthia stated firmly.
“That was tolerable,” Ms. Tragent remarked cynically.
Maude had just finished singing “Tra la la” from Georges Bizet’s Carmen.
“Just remember, your character is playful, witty, and full of charm. She knows it and so does everyone else in the opera. Don’t hesitate. Your laugh isn’t as charming as it should be.”
Maude held back an impatient sigh. She’d tried at least thirteen different laughs, but none seemed to suit her demanding teacher.
Ms. Tragent moved away from her piano, moved closer to Maude and looked at her thoughtfully.
“When singing opera you have to be wholeheartedly in character. Every detail counts. That laugh of yours was too jittery. It scorched my poor ears.”
“That’s because I’ve been forcing twenty different kinds of laughs!” Maude protested.
Ms. Tragent turned abruptly towards Maude and faced her with flashing eyes. Maude recoiled, then decided against it, straightened up with a defiant stance, curled her lips, and let out a light, graceful, witty laugh.
Ms. Tragent hid an amused smile.
“That’s better,” she granted.
Maude heaved a sigh of relief. Even laughing demanded a Herculean effort with Ms. Tragent. Nevertheless, she enjoyed singing Carmen.
“I know you enjoy every minute you spend here,” Ms. Tragent observed with her uncanny knack of reading people’s thoughts. “No matter how harsh I speak, you still comply.”
“I want to improve,” Maude replied truthfully.
“You have improved, Ms. Laurent.”
Maude peered at her stern teacher curiously. Ms. Tragent complimenting her students was a rarity Maude had only heard of but never actually witnessed.
“You have what it takes to become a remarkable operatic singer if you wished. Have you ever considered pursuing a classical career?”
“Before coming to New York, I wanted to pursue a classical career. I dreamt of attending the Conservatoire de Paris,” Maude admitted.
“And now?”
“I can’t say the idea of becoming an operatic singer isn’t thrilling. However, classical music is exclusive. It’s impossible for an operatic singer to sing anything else. I’ve discovered pop, jazz, rock, rhythm and blues, and soul. I would never want to give those up.”
“Who says you would have to? Take Barbara Hendricks for example. She’s a world-renowned African American soprano operatic singer and yet—”
“And yet she also sings jazz professionally,” Maude completed, nodding her head. “I see what you mean. Nevertheless, she is one of the h
appy few.”
“You must make your own path. Shape your own career whichever road you choose,” Ms. Tragent advised. “I heard extracts of your upcoming album.”
Maude winced, waiting for her teacher’s sharp criticism.
“It wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be,” Ms. Tragent continued. “You and Matt did a good job using different musical influences. Mixing elements of pop, jazz, soul, and classical is a feat. It makes for an interesting album.”
She paused, observing Maude with her penetrating blue stare.
“You are lucky to be working with James. I hope you realize that. He gave you the freedom to experiment and to make an album reflecting who you really are. Matt wasn’t so lucky with Glitter Records. Classical music is a part of you and blends well with every modern musical style as long as it is done correctly. Don’t erase that part of you just to fit into a category, a label.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Maude replied solemnly.
Ms. Tragent looked worriedly at Maude. She seemed young, hopeful, and defiant but at the same time so terribly inexperienced.
“I hope you’ll always have so much freedom, but I’d be wary of Alan if I were you. He’s a shark who would’ve been better off at Glitter than at Soulville.”
Maude smiled ruefully.
“Just don’t let anyone else steal your songs and you’ll be fine,” Ms. Tragent declared dryly. “Now, enough daydreaming. Start over from the beginning!”
Chapter 12
Matt watched Maude intently through the glass pane while she sang ‘Falling For You’ soulfully in the vocal booth. After weeks of intense studio work, the recording of Maude’s freshman album was nearing completion and they were just days away from the release of her first single, ‘Betrayed But Not Broken.’
Soulville was hosting a party for the occasion, and everybody was caught in buzzing excitement.
Although the recording had gone smoothly, Matt couldn’t help but feel an acute sense of disappointment. Ever since the Thomas-related incident, his relationship with Maude had been more than strained. Cynthia, who secretly wished to see her two honorary siblings together had informed him that Maude and Thomas were no longer on speaking terms, but Matt had felt only temporary relief at the news. Maude might not be talking to Thomas, but she wasn’t really being that friendly with Matt either. She had acted curtly towards him during the past weeks. Of course, Matt had responded just as curtly as Maude, but he had only been following her lead he told himself. Since when had he ever followed anybody’s lead, he shamefully wondered. He was the great Matt Beauchamp. He always knew what he wanted and went after it, ready for anything. In omnia paratus was his motto. Besides, Frenchmen never had any trouble conquering a girl’s heart. It was in their DNA. How was it then that Maude Laurent caught him completely off-guard?