“Did you make this?” Kieran asked.
Vanessa glanced at the door, and he turned. I didn’t move fast enough.
“Rae?”
I could run. But we were friends, so I entered. “She was worried. You’re being too crazy. You need to scale it back until you know each other better.” My words sprang from affection and care and were only a little joking.
“Your lip is swollen.” He twisted on the bench toward the door, and his black T-shirt stretched around him, shellacked to his wide shoulders and rippling muscles. Coffee stains dotted the thighs of his jeans. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair was knotted and messy. He probably smelled bad too. “I can’t get the music to go together. It’s not working.”
Paper littered the floor, discards and mistakes he’d want shredded, but on the piano sat thick stacks of music, music he’d written. His plants hadn’t turned brown, so at least he’d taken the time to care for those. “Eat,” I said. “Take a shower. I’ll get you fresh clothes. You smell terrible. Vanessa will play what you have, and when you hear it, you’ll hear what’s missing.”
“I don’t play piano,” Vanessa said, snapping her gum. Where had she gotten gum? I added the gum to the list of noises she needed to squelch.
Kieran gestured at her as if to say, See? I’m not the crazy one.
“I’ll play. You shower.” I went to the piano. No one played like the Maestro, but I could do enough. His brain could hear the entire symphony playing his song, even if it just was me banging out some notes.
He took a long swallow of coffee and retreated into the bathroom, leaving the door open so he could hear. When the shower started, I played.
The sound haunted me. Dark stuff. I liked his other work better. This made me feel like going home, getting into bed, and crying.
Vanessa stared at me. I needed to give her something to do. “Could you get him some clean clothing?”
She nodded and hurried to do as I’d asked. I kept playing. I played it twice.
Vanessa returned with his clothing and set it in the bathroom, dropping it on the floor like a burning pot.
Then Kieran stepped out of the bathroom, white towel around his waist, and came to the piano. When I saw him like this, my breath came in pants. The shower was running. I turned away as he dripped on me. My mouth watered, and heat pooled between my legs. My nipples pebbled against my sweater. I ached to reach out and touch him, to set my hands on his bare skin and press my fingers into his powerful form, to run them down his body and not stop until I’d touched every inch of him.
I leaned closer as if looking at the music. He smelled good. A couple of drops of water slid down his muscled chest, disappearing into the terry cloth towel. I could lick those drops from his hot skin and then kiss his lips and stroke his jawline to feel the stubble there.
I liked when he was in need of a shave. He occasionally changed up his appearance, I think more from forgetting than for fashion, growing a beard or a little stubble around his mouth.
He plucked the pencil from the piano with nimble fingers and made notations on the paper.
Then I insisted he put on clothing before Vanessa swooned. Really, I was just as bad, my body totally overreacting to him. An achy desire swelled inside me.
When he retreated and the bathroom door clicked shut, Vanessa raced to the piano, her cheeks flushed. “Is he always that free about being naked?”
He wasn’t particularly modest. His passion for his music meant everything to him, and other life details, like clothing, fell second. I stood from the piano bench. “When he’s working, he’s focused on that.”
Vanessa fiddled with her silver-chain-linked watch. “I’m going to tell Glory you saved the day. Problem solved. The genius is fed and dressed. I have a date tonight. I have to go.”
What she said didn’t fully compute. “You aren’t going to the performance tonight?”
She shook her head. “I’m maxed out on music this week.” She pulled her phone from her dress pocket and didn’t wait for me to respond.
And then she left.
I struggled to compose myself, more than a little thrown. Did she expect me to stay? I’d mentioned my other plans. This would’ve been an opportunity for her to build some bridges with Kieran.
When Kieran stepped out of the bathroom, he wore a gray T-shirt and sweats. I would’ve brought his clothes for the performance tonight so he didn’t need to change twice.
He sat at the piano again and played. He didn’t ask about Vanessa. Maybe he didn’t care.
I crossed to the doorway. “I need to go.”
“Go where?” he asked. His gentle voice sent plumes of heat through me.
“I have a speed-dating appointment.” I could be honest with him. He wouldn’t judge me.
His shoulders tightened. “Speed dating? Let me come with you.”
If he did, I’d stare at him the entire time, and it would negate the whole purpose of me shelling out fifty dollars to try to meet a man. “I don’t think there are extra tickets. I had to sign up for this ahead of time. You have a performance tonight. Do you have your tuxedo?”
“There’s one upstairs. Glory dropped it off. What about Greg?”
I shrugged. “What about him?”
He kept playing, slower now. “Your pursuit of love is admirable.”
I’m not sure I’d call my pursuit admirable. I might’ve used the word “desperate.” My sister told me love would find me. I thought putting in some effort might help speed things along.
The Maestro repeated the same chord in succession. “Will you call the car service, please, and ask Nathan to drive you and take you home?”
Because of what’d happened at the gallery, because it’d scared us both, I agreed I would. “Good night, Kieran.”
As I left the piano room to wait for the car service, the melody he played changed from somber to smoldering, each note laced with heat.
He didn’t like the changes in his life. But like me, he’d have to adapt.
6
The next morning, I woke early to start on my admissions packet to the university.
I needed a master’s degree to advance at the Monarch School. I hadn’t mentioned my university plans to Kieran. He’d either know the professors at the school, and therefore ensure my admission even if I didn’t deserve it, or he’d offer to pay my tuition. I needed to do this without Kieran. I didn’t think I’d even ask him for a reference letter.
I had more time now that I wasn’t working for him. That free time somehow made me lazier than when I had more to do. I decided to get a latte from my favorite coffeehouse to jolt me and inspire creativity.
My speed dating had yielded no prospects.
I’d repeated what I did for a living to a series of men who were more interested in speaking to a stunning redheaded woman with double Ds than to a petite blonde with a heart-shaped face sprayed with freckles. I assume the redhead left with everyone’s number, and she could pick and choose from there.
“Large latte, skim milk, please,” I said.
“Just one?” the barista asked. Usually, I ordered two. One for me, one for Kieran. But his would be whole milk with an extra shot of espresso. I know it sounds like I kept my boss caffeinated and fat, but Kieran rarely ate, and he liked to jog.
Another of his idiosyncrasies was jogging alone at night without a reflective vest or flashlight. He’d scared the crap out of a number of people in the neighborhood until I’d spoken to him about why his behavior unsettled the neighbors.
He refused the reflective vest but agreed to the reflective belt and small flashlight. I also told him to say something, like “excuse me” or “coming through” so that people would hear him approach.
“Just the one drink, thanks,” I said. For a moment, I imagined buying two and taking one to Kieran, popping in like a friend would to chat and hang out. I’d tell him about my twenty failed dates, and he’d play music, and I’d forget about those other men.
Those ot
her men couldn’t hold a candle to Kieran.
“Rae!”
I whirled at the sound of my name, a bit of hot coffee splashing my thumb.
Joseph, who played the cello for the New York Symphony, the best cellist on the East Coast, maybe even in the country, approached. Tall and thin like the neck of his instrument, he was the unofficial leader of the orchestra. He’d been in the symphony the longest of any player, and most of the members turned to him for advice.
Joseph greeted me warmly with a hug. He had to bend at the waist to get his arm around my shoulders. “We’ve missed you so much.”
By “we,” did he mean him and his boyfriend, whom I occasionally had dinner with, or him and the orchestra?
His arms were strong and his hands were huge. He could’ve gone into solo performances, but he loved the orchestra too much.
“I’ve missed you guys,” I said, meaning it about him, his boyfriend, and the entire orchestra.
I liked my work at the Monarch School, but I hadn’t made the same connections with the staff as I had with the orchestra members. I’d come to care a great deal for every person at the symphony hall, from the players to the accountants to the fundraisers and the ushers. They’d been thoughtful and warm with me, caring about me, embracing me as one of their own. Many of them understood the role I played with the Maestro, keeping him in check, handling him and his moods, and I wondered if they thought me disloyal for leaving. I hadn’t fixated on what he was like to work with when I wasn’t around.
I remembered the time the orchestra had me sit in the middle of the group and they played “Happy Birthday” to me, their amazing talent performing the most artful rendition of “Happy Birthday” I’d ever heard. Kieran had sung, and I wish I could’ve recorded it to play every year on my birthday. Kieran had focused on me, and I’d been the center of his world for those thirty seconds.
Joseph took my free hand in his, and his eyes bored into mine. “I mean we really, really miss you. Without you, the Maestro is absolutely bonkers. There’s nothing to keep him in check.” Joseph led me to the side of the shop, away from the line forming for coffee. Saturday morning, every chair and stool was occupied, but we stood between a table of hipsters in wool hats and a table of ballet dancers, their hair pulled back taut, their muscular legs encased in leggings.
I should investigate taking yoga or barre classes. Running after the Maestro counted as physical work, but maybe a workout would firm and tone.
I didn’t want to ask more about Kieran…except curiosity pierced me. “Bonkers how?” I’d seen some of it the night before with Vanessa, but I’d let Joseph elaborate.
Joseph plowed his fingers through his spikey white hair. “I admire the chances he takes with the music. I love the creativity. We’re willing to go along with his flights of fancy, to try new arrangements. I like how he changes the music to connect with the crowd, but…” Joseph cleared his throat.
“But what?”
Joseph rubbed his forehead as if working away a headache. “He gets upset. Distraught, almost. He tells us we need more rehearsals. He tells us to follow him, but we are following him. He paces. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He needs you.”
I’d seen the described behavior once before. I’d been away on vacation, visiting my family for my sister’s wedding. I’d missed one performance—one—and when I returned Monday morning, the place had been in an uproar.
Dark circles had rimmed Kieran’s eyes, his clothes had been rumpled as if he’d slept in them, and his hair was a wreck. He’d said his interpretation of Tchaikovsky had been wrong and he’d destroyed the orchestra and their future.
Hurt and confusion had touched the players’ expressions as he’d shouted this.
The reviews of the performance had been glowing.
I’d called for a break, and then he and I had talked. We’d gone to his private music room at the symphony hall and listened to the recording. As I made him a coffee and commented on the parts of the music I’d liked, I’d admitted there were a few places where they’d been slow or fast. I’d marked the music with him, and when he’d returned to rehearsal, he was calmer.
“He’ll be okay,” I told Joseph now. “Maybe you can talk to him. Ask him to calm down.”
Joseph leaned toward me, his eyebrows drawn down and tight together. “Are you ill? Is there something wrong medically?” Bewilderment thickened his voice.
“Because I asked you to speak to him, you think I’m ill?”
“I’m worried about you, and I still don’t understand why you left.”
My stomach tightened, and I took a sip of my coffee to give me a moment to compose my thoughts. “I’m not sick. I’m fine.” Heartsick. Heartbroken, but otherwise totally fine. “I spoke with his new assistant. She’s learning the job.”
Joseph scrubbed his hand over his hazel eyes. “I don’t think she wants to learn the job. She’s awful. I give anyone credit for trying, but she leaves in the middle of rehearsals. I guess it’d been eight hours or something, but she consults her watch and leaves. If she’s trying to win him over, or win us over, that’s not the way.”
I’d had a similar experience with her. “She’s new. She has a way to go. Maybe Glory can talk to her.”
Joseph shook his head. “I’ve seen Glory try to speak to Vanessa. The two of them don’t get along. I realize they hired Vanessa because she’s some big donor’s daughter, but why is she sticking with the job? It’s to the point that the Maestro ignores her during rehearsals. Vanessa doesn’t intervene when he’s crazy. She brings the wrong music. She can’t handle any of the equipment.”
“I didn’t know that stuff either until I learned. I was with you guys for five years. She’ll catch up, but she needs time. Plus, you had low expectations for me. I came on as an intern.”
Joseph sighed. “Come on, Rae. I’m speaking for all of us when I say that we need you. Tell me what he did or what we did and we’ll make this right. Was it money? Because at this point, I think we’d agree to toss in some of our paychecks to get you to come back.”
His generous and touching offer intensified my regret. The orchestra didn’t pay heaping sums, and many of the players had children and mortgages and such.
I couldn’t tell Joseph the truth. I’d sound ridiculous.
I’d once heard a visiting violinist make a crack about me panting after “the teacher.” It’d stung how right she’d been. After that, I’d kept my facial expressions in check and tried not to stare or pant. “It wasn’t anything that you guys did. Or that the Maestro did. It’s not like that. It was a personal decision.”
Joseph brought his hands together in pleading. “We miss you. The entire performance would be better with you. You know we’re going on tour in a little over a month? We’re leaving after the start of the year. Can you imagine? I doubt that’s enough time for Vanessa to get up to speed. The tickets and the hotels, the transportation and the arrangements. She won’t be able to do it. The more chaotic it is, the worse he’ll be. This could be a career ender for some of us.”
My stomach dropped at the mention of the stakes. The plans for the orchestra worried me, but hearing that Kieran would be traveling had my attention. Kieran liked to travel. He didn’t worry about being out of town or unreachable, except to confirm he had someone to care for his plants, and he had a local horticulturalist on standby for those occasions.
The Maestro didn’t fear adventure, but he got anxious about forgetting details, about the variables that could affect the performance.
I weighed my options. If I traveled with them, it’d be stepping back into the role I’d broken free of. If I tried to teach Vanessa a few things that might help, would she listen?
Kieran wouldn’t think of me the same if I came back to work. It’d be giving up precious ground. “You’ll be okay. I’m sorry, but I can’t come back.”
Joseph hugged me again. “It’s an open invitation. Please don’t say absolutely no now. Think about it.”
We said our good-byes, and I started walking to my apartment in the cold. I’d forgotten my gloves, so I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup.
I hadn’t yet reached my apartment when my phone rang. I dug it out of my jacket pocket and saw Glory’s name on the display. “Rae, Joseph called. He said maybe you’d think about coming on tour with the orchestra?”
It’d been less than ten minutes since I’d left the coffeehouse. He must’ve called her immediately. How bad had it gotten for the orchestra? “There must have been a miscommunication. I told him I wouldn’t do it.”
“Don’t be hasty. I ran into Brendan last night, and when I floated the idea of you taking a short leave to assist the symphony, he was open to it. We’d have to work out the details. Maybe I could help with your work while you’re away, and you could handle the orchestra?”
“You saw my boss?”
“Brendan and I go way, way back. We got to talking, and I told him how much we missed you. I don’t know who suggested it, but we thought it was a great idea.”
I didn’t like that these plans had been discussed without consulting me first, as if what I wanted didn’t factor in. They needed me to handle Kieran, but he’d have to learn to handle himself. He’d gotten on fine for thirty-plus years without me.
“I can’t go on tour. It’s not possible.”
“It is possible. It’ll be a plus for your career. I know what you’re going through. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it for four years.”
“You’ve seen what for years?” I asked.
“Come on, Rae. You’re in love with him.”
My coffee cup slipped from my hand, struck the sidewalk, burst open, and coffee splashed over my pants. I swore. “I dropped my coffee. Why are you saying that?”
“I’ve been there. My second husband conducted the philharmonic in Chicago. We had the craziest relationship, full of fighting and passion and wild sex. He used to play this music while we made love, and I swear, it was like being electrified all over. Did Kieran sleep with you? Is that what happened? Because I’ll tell him he needs to keep it in his pants and maintain absolutely hard boundaries.”
The Maestro Page 7