Breathe into Me (12 page)

I stifled a groan, wondering how far my dubious infamy had spread, as Clare continued. “Turns out, Mrs. Holloway isn’t as popular as she thinks. Most people think she’s a hag, which she is, but they’re too polite to say it to her face, the cowards. So you’ve already got that in your favor, although I may have embellished your story a teensy bit.”

“Embellished?” Apparently Clare liked to tell a story. I glanced inside to see Connie and Elise still watching us. “I’m on the clock right now,” I hedged, hoping the hint would speed up Clare’s tale.

“Oh, sorry! Anyway, I put in a good word to my boss and he wants you to come down and interview!”

My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“Well, Norma-May’s having her baby, and she used to wait tables for the bigger parties. It’s one of those jobs everyone wants because the tips can double your nightly income, so when I asked about it I was surprised they gave it to me. I mean, I’ve only been there for a little while, I would have thought they’d pick somebody from this area over me …”

I groaned. “Clare.”

“Anyway, there’s a hostess job open. They’re pretty keen on filling it quick, so the sooner you put an application in the better.”

I was speechless for a moment, unsure whether this was a lucky break or another setup for disappointment. Clare seemed to think my silence meant I was saying no because she added, “Please think about it? I know we didn’t get to hang out this much but I feel really bad about getting you fired.”

“I don’t know, how soon can I interview?”

“What time are you done today?”

Two hours later I was in Clare’s car, wondering what I was getting myself into.

We drove through the gates of the club, passing several Mercedes and Cadillacs by the valet stand, and picked out at least two high-end Italian sport cars in the parking lot. I poked at my clothing as Clare pulled us around the back toward what I assumed was the employee parking lot. She parked and got out quickly, but I took an extra moment to look at myself in the mirror.
What was I doing?

“You look fine,” Clare assured me, opening my door and all but pulling me out of the car. “We’re about the same size, although,” she amended, her gaze dipping lower, “you may be a bit bustier than me.”

When Clare had shown up at the shop the second time just as I was getting off, she’d thrust a bag into my arms and pushed me into the backseat to change. That was probably for the best since all I’d had at the time were jeans and an old T-shirt. She’d given me a blouse and skirt, along with a pair of wedge heels that were a size too large but still mostly fit. They were spring colors, bright yellows and oranges, and definitely not from any discount stores. But even with the clothes I still felt like an impostor, trailer trash among the social elite, and I worried I’d be called out.

Trying to tamp down my nervousness, I followed Clare through the wide entrance and into a series of offices. There was a bustle of folks filling the hallway and spilling outside, all dressed in matching formal wear. “They’re getting ready for a wedding, it’s all hands on deck right now,” Clare explained as we pushed against the tide. “The main office isn’t far.”

The crush died down suddenly as we moved into the workout area, then past that toward the tennis courts. Ladies in small white skirts and racquets passed by, barely giving us a glance. For some reason not being noticed made me feel better. I preferred anonymity, and wondered what they’d think if I’d shown up in cutoff jeans and a pair of flip-flops.
Doubt I’d blend in quite as much like that
.

I knew we’d passed into the main club when between one door and the next the furnishings suddenly got much richer. It was subtle things like the marbled floors, expensive wood paneling on the walls, and glass cases with pieces of art. The high ceilings had large chandeliers, and crystal fixtures lined the walls. The whole aesthetic managed to proclaim class without being too over the top, but it still made me nervous.
I don’t belong here
.

“Earlier, I texted Drew—I mean Mr. Ford—that we’d be coming. He interviewed me in here last time. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Some of my anxiety returned as Clare disappeared around the corner. I poked through the business magazines on the coffee table by the couches and admired some of the artwork in the cases. Minutes passed and I grew more apprehensive, wondering where Clare had gone. I poked my head around the corner where she’d disappeared, but it was just another hallway like the other we’d come through.

Not wanting to get lost, I explored my current surroundings a bit more. There was a second smaller waiting area through one archway, this one with refreshments next to a baby grand piano. I sipped on water while I ran my fingers over the lacquered wood, and then sat down on the bench. Lifting the cover as quietly as possible, I ran my fingers lightly over the keys. This definitely wasn’t the place to run the instrument through its chords, but I let my fingers move across the keys in a familiar pattern, not pressing but remembering the sound from memory.

“Do you play?”

Startled, I accidentally pressed one key too hard, then covered my mouth in horror as the note reverberated loudly off the walls. I stood quickly to face the speaker, who was watching me with some interest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

The stranger didn’t seem much older than me, maybe in his mid- to late-twenties, and unlike most of the people in the area he didn’t have much of a southern accent. He was tall and blond with a shrewd gaze, but despite having startled me, his even tone and answer made me relax. “You seemed to know what you were doing,” he said, shaking his head at my apology. One eyebrow quirked. “I doubt the piano or our guests were disturbed by so light a touch.”

“It’s been a few years since I practiced,” I replied, shrugging and looking back at the piano. “It’s a beautiful instrument, though. I learned on a Steinway like this.”

“So you
do
play. I thought as much.” He held out his hand. “My name is Andrew Ford, pleased to meet you.”

“Oh!” I reached out to take his hand. “I’m Lacey St. James. Clare said I should see you about a job?” As a matter of fact, where was Clare? I looked around but couldn’t find her.

Andrew seemed to read my mind. “We’re a bit short staffed tonight, and I sent Clare to check in with her supervisor. We’ve a wedding this afternoon and three people have already called in sick.” He narrowed his shrewd gaze to me. “Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

I tried not to let my giddiness at his words show. A job in a location like this had to pay better than the little sandwich shop. “That wasn’t my intention, Mr. Ford.”

He winced a bit at the
Mister
. “You can call me Andrew for the moment since we’re only talking. My father is Mr. Ford, not me.” He indicated the piano with a jerk of his head. “Why don’t you play something for me?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. My jaw worked for a moment, then I sat back down in the chair and stared at the keys. “It’s been a while since I played,” I repeated in a shaky voice, suddenly nervous again as Andrew came around to the side of the piano. “What do you want to hear?”

“Surprise me.”

Being given the choice of music, of course, made my mind go completely blank. To give myself time to think, I ran my fingers up the keys, playing an octave, then back down again to middle C. The dulcet sounds of the grand piano rang off the wood walls and I could tell immediately this piano was concert quality, far better than anything I’d played before.

Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself, I started off with Beethoven’s
Für Elise
, one of the first classical songs I’d ever learned. My fingers danced across the keys, muscle memory still good even after years of neglect. The effort was flawless, and I was impressed despite myself.

“Not bad,” Andrew said during a slower section. “How about something more lively?”

Without missing a beat, I segued right into Mozart’s
Turkish Rondo
. As the decidedly upbeat tones reverberated through the small room, a smile tugged at my lips. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this, how much I loved the feel of the keys beneath my fingers. I made a few errors this time as my hands, which had been dormant so long, warmed up to the memory of the music I’d once cherished. But the sound of the music,
my
music, echoing around me was beyond compare.

“What about any modern tunes?”

A second later I heard Andrew chuckle as Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” spilled from my fingers. I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile, and then segued into Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.” Both songs were ones I’d taught myself as no sheet music had been available at the time, but they had been my favorite songs around the time I’d quit lessons.

When I glanced up at Andrew, he gave me a bemused smile. “Impressive. What’s the toughest song you know?”

I ended the song I was playing and paused in thought, then as clapping sounded around me I realized with a jolt that we’d attracted an audience. The ladies I’d seen earlier by the tennis courts were watching me, as well as an older couple who were dressed as fancy as anyone I’d ever seen. I froze, and gave Andrew an unsure look.

“Too late now,” he said, reading my expression “They’re already here, might as well continue the show.”

This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d played for an audience, but it had been a while. I suddenly remembered what I’d considered my toughest challenge on the piano. “It’s been a while since I played this,” I said, giving Andrew a rueful smile. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you if I botch it royally.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’ll happen.”

Wishing I had his confidence in my rusty abilities, I waggled my fingers theatrically, then launched into Liszt’s
Hungarian Rhapsody
No. 2
. It was the last song I’d learned before my father—
stepfather
—had died. I expected to feel some pain for that reason since it brought back memories of him, but all I felt was the music spilling from my fingertips. The song wasn’t easy, and I skipped most of the prelude and dove right into the hard parts.

Immediately I realized I’d forgotten more than I thought. Still, I managed to cobble it together enough so that few would realize it wasn’t the original music. I made quite a few errors this time but the smile never left my face. With an overly dramatic flourish at the end, I received a round of applause from the people around the piano.

“I haven’t heard that since Bugs Bunny played it on the silver screen,” the older woman said, giving me a wink before wandering off with her husband. I bit my lip, trying to curb my enthusiasm and school my expression into something more stoic, but it proved too difficult.

The rest of the guests filtered away and Andrew looked ready to say something else when an older gentleman stepped up to the piano. Drew straightened when he saw the man, but he was ignored. The gray-haired man stopped beside the bench and peered down at me. “Are you auditioning for the piano position?”

“Um…” I look at Drew, not sure what to say.
Piano position?

“She is,” Andrew answered for me.

The older gentlemen nodded, keeping his gaze on me. Uncomfortable with his stare, I looked away. “Next time, use one of the side rooms so as not to disturb the guests. But you’re hired.” He looked at Andrew. “The Bozeman-Gautier wedding is behind schedule, make sure everything comes together in time.”

“Yes, sir.”

The whole exchange was just
odd
. I watched the older man disappear around the corner again. “If you don’t mind my asking,” I said as politely as I could, “who was that?”

“My father.” Andrew didn’t look all that impressed by the fact. “He owns the club itself and leads the board that runs it. If he says you’re hired, then you’re in.”

“I didn’t know I was trying out,” I murmured, trying not to let my pleasure show. “He must have really liked my playing.”

“Don’t take it as a compliment, it probably wasn’t your playing that got you the job.”

The flat way he said it ruined my mood completely. I dropped my arms from the keys and looked away, but not before I saw Andrew’s surprised look as he realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean … Shit. We had some drama with the girl before and … You’re very talented, more so than the person you’re replacing.”

An awkward silence ensued, and then he pushed some paperwork at me. “If you’re interested, fill these out and drop them off by tomorrow. My number is on the top, call me and we can set up a time for a tour.”

I took the application paperwork and slid silently off the bench. I’d barely gone a step when Andrew’s voice called out to me. “You really are good.”

I paused to look back at him. He scratched his neck, looking suitably abashed, but continued. “I didn’t think this little town would have anyone as good as you.”

“I’m not from around here,” I said, before turning away. His comment still stung, although something told me it wasn’t personal, just leftover baggage from the previous piano player. He seemed nice enough however, and I knew I couldn’t turn down the job. I hadn’t even realized how much I wanted something like this until it was offered, and now I could barely contain my excitement.

Andrew went back into the country club and I walked toward the entrance, still looking for Clare. I pulled my phone out of my purse to check for texts, and then pulled up my chat log with Everett. I was halfway through a text telling him about the job offer, when I stopped and stared at the words. It hadn’t occurred to me until that point how dependent I’d grown on him. That feeling unnerved me, underscoring my uncertainty on what exactly our relationship was. Was he just a friend or something more?

Clare chose that moment to come racing around the corner, and I closed the clamshell phone, erasing the text. She was practically bouncing as she drew near, and spontaneously threw her arms around me. “Omigod, was that
you
playing the piano? That was so awesome!”

I smiled a bit at her enthusiasm. “Looks like I won’t be working with you and the waitstaff.”

“I guess! They told me when I went in that they’d already hired two other people this morning, so you wouldn’t have gotten that job anyway.”