Coffee Sonata (10 page)

“Manon!” Eryn’s eager, slightly out-of-breath voice made Manon whirl. Dressed in black leather, the outfit hugging every curve, Eryn approached in long, energetic strides, her braid, deep red in the setting sun, swinging behind her. She carried a red helmet under her arm, and the strap across her chest led down to her by now trademark leather bag.

“I saw you drive up. What a car!” She grinned. “You travel in style, Belmont.”

Manon returned the infectious smile. “I’m a sports-car aficionado.”

“Me too, but I still drive an old Volvo when it’s too cold to ride the Yamaha.” Eryn scowled.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Only if the Volvo’s a 1982 station wagon.”

“Oh, a vintage car.”

“Try a dying car.” Eryn sighed. “I doubt it’ll last another winter.” Peeking through the café windows, she waved for Manon to follow. “The place is packed. I was afraid of that, so I called ahead. Let’s see if Mike managed to save us a table.”

Inside, Manon was struck by the warm ambience. Traditional red-and-white plaid tablecloths covered rustic tables, and a roaring fire cast a cozy glow, creating patterns on the dark paneled walls. A bar outlined the entire length of the inner wall, and the counter shone.

“Eryn, good to see you.” A dark-haired woman appeared, carrying a tray of sparkling glasses. “It’s been too long. How are you doing?”

“Fine, thanks. This is my friend and neighbor, Manon. Manon, this is the owner, Michaela, or Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Manon.” Mike put the tray down on the counter, wiped her hands on a towel hanging from her black apron, and smiled cautiously. “Your table’s over there.” Mike pointed toward the corner where two walls of windows met. “It’s got a great view of the marina.”

“Mike. It’s a pleasure.” As they shook hands, Manon began to realize where she’d encountered Mike Stone, but she merely said, “Thank you for saving us a table.”

“Awesome.” Eryn grinned. “Thanks for the VIP treatment.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mike’s dark eyes lit up. “Come with me.”

Mike led them among the tables, and Manon noticed that she moved with the grace and control of an athlete. Though she attracted the attention of more than a few men, she didn’t even glance in their direction.

When they reached the corner table, Mike removed the Reserved sign and pulled out the chairs. “There you go, ladies. What can I get you to drink?”

“Since I’ve heard great things about your coffee, I’ll have a latte, please.” Manon felt her stomach growl and reached for a menu.

“Same here.” Eryn opened one as well.

“Two lattes, then. Take your time. I’ll be right back.”

Manon watched Mike hurry away. “Nice woman, and rather different.” She turned her attention back to Eryn.

“Yes. She stands out in a crowd. Kinda dark and edgy, if you know what I mean.”

“Dark and edgy? Is she Goth?”

Eryn’s eyebrows flew up. “I don’t think so. How would someone like you know about Goth people?”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” Manon frowned.

“Well, you must admit, you travel in slightly different circles.”

“A lot of different people come by the foundation office. I usually find them interesting. Talking with them is a welcome change from the rigid, formal functions I have to attend on a regular basis.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“I know you didn’t.” Without thinking, Manon placed her hand on top of Eryn’s to reassure her.
God. Pull your hand back. Now.

Eryn leaned forward, turned her hand palm up under Manon’s, and squeezed it. “Do you get that a lot?”

“What?” Manon felt her fingers tingle from Eryn’s firm touch.
Pull back.

“The poor-little-rich-girl-she-knows-very-little-about-life-in-the-real-world routine from people.” She grimaced. “That’s how I sounded. I’m sorry.”

“I used to get that,” Manon said, and managed to slowly pull her hand free. Pleased with Eryn’s intuition, she grabbed the menu and opened it just to occupy her hands. “It’s a rather sore spot.”

“Your lattes, ladies.” Mike interrupted the awkward moment. “Have you decided on anything to eat?”

“What do you recommend?” Manon looked up.

“The ham and tomato quiche. And it comes with a salad.”

“Then I’ll have that and some mineral water.”

“I’ll have the spinach crepes,” Eryn said. “And water too.”

“Sure. Until then, enjoy the coffee.”

Manon sipped and then sighed in pleasure. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled.

“That good, huh?” Eryn grinned. “I told you.” She sampled hers. “Very, very good.”

She had a dreamy expression on her face, and for a moment Manon could easily envision her as a character out of a Shakespeare play.
A female Puck perhaps, or
…
Quit that. Say something.

“I’ve been coffee deprived all day.” Nervous, Manon drank too quickly, and hot coffee flooded her throat. She coughed, reached for her napkin, and pressed it to her mouth as she tried not to wheeze.

“Are you all right?” Eryn was halfway out of her chair. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no,” Manon croaked. “I’m fine.” Finally catching her breath, she wiped annoying tears from the corner of her eyes. “I just swallowed wrong.”

Eryn gave her a doubtful look but didn’t persist. Her eyes lit up as she glanced around the room. “Hey, look over there! Your good friend and our favorite mezzo-soprano just walked in.”

“Vivian’s here too?” Manon turned around. “This must be the place to go.” This time sipping her coffee with great care, she asked, “Unless she’s meeting someone, would you mind if she joined us?”

“Not at all. I’d like to get to know her better.”

Manon waved Vivian over and thought she detected a relieved expression on her friend’s face.

“Manon, so nice to run into you.”

“Why don’t you join us? It’s crowded tonight.”

“I just popped in for some coffee at the bar, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather sit here.”

“You’ve met Eryn Goddard.” Manon gestured, not quite liking how her voice became deeper and more intense when she spoke Eryn’s name.

“Yes. The press conference. Thank you for writing such a lovely piece in the Sunday paper, Ms. Goddard,” Vivian said as she sat down. “It was so much better than what that impertinent woman from the
Boston Phoenix
did. I honestly couldn’t tell if the two of you were at the same press conference.”

Manon noticed Eryn’s cheeks turn pink, enhancing her freckles.
She looked cute fiddling with her utensils to cover up her discomfort.
Not only capable but modest. That’s a refreshing change from most reporters
.

“Thank you,” Eryn murmured, sounding more pleased than embarrassed. “I’m glad you liked it. What’s really important, though, is that I convinced my editor to run an ad on the first page every day for the next few weeks, telling people where to send their money for the hospital wing.”

Manon’s heart warmed, shattering a few old icicles. As she and Eryn gazed at each other, she felt an instant of silent communication. It was unexpectedly welcome. She only looked away when Mike approached the table.

“Hello, Vivian. I see you’ve found some company,” Mike said. “How about a latte and some of that salad you like?”

Manon thought it was unusual for her friend to let Mike in so quickly. Vivian was a private woman.
She must feel lonely.

“Yes, I found some special people,
cara
. Can you join us?”

“I’m sorry.” Mike shook her head. “We’re packed to the brim. I have to keep serving the pies as soon as Martha finishes baking them. Something to eat, Vivian?”

“No, thank you. I’m not very hungry.”

“All right.” Mike’s incredible eyes shifted to violet. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I will.”

After Mike moved lithely between the tables, a slightly awkward silence filled the air.

Finally, Eryn cleared her throat. “So, you’re settling in, in your old hometown, Ms. Harding? It must’ve changed a lot over the years.”

“Please call me Vivian,” she requested, after tearing her eyes from the disappearing Mike. “Ms. Harding is my stage personality. This,” she gestured, “is just me. A woman from East Quay. And yes, the town has grown and become…something else. Something I’m happy to explore, now that I’ve returned.”

Manon was stunned. Vivian had never mentioned anything about East Quay or her life there before she became famous. It was as if her first sixteen years had been erased, and Manon knew she wasn’t the only one who wondered why.

“I’ll be honored to call you Vivian. And I’m just Eryn. And as I’ve told your friend here, things are always off the record unless I say otherwise.”

“Fair enough. If Manon trusts you,” Vivian smiled at her friend, “so do I.”

*

As they ate, making casual conversation, Eryn studied her two companions. They contrasted in style and personality, but both were clearly women of the world. However, she refused to feel outclassed. Besides, Manon at least found people from all walks of life interesting.
I wonder if she’d still find me a suitable lunch date if she knew I was a lesbian. She gives out such mixed signals.
Eryn could have sworn Manon trembled when their hands briefly touched earlier. Then she’d detected something close to panic in Manon’s eyes before she withdrew her hand.

Eryn put down her fork, content to listen to Manon and Vivian.

“I wish I had more time to work on the Rossini aria,” Vivian said, sounding a little tired. “I haven’t played Rosina in ages, and though I know
The Barber of Seville
well…I’m not pleased. This is my last performance, at least for a while. I want it to be perfect.”

Manon frowned and leaned back in her chair. “Aren’t you rehearsing almost every day with the orchestra?”

“Yes, but I miss Sherry, my regular accompanist. She’s touring with
Othello
. She couldn’t put her career on hold just because I decided to take a leave.” Vivian looked uncomfortable. “And to tell the truth, I don’t want to make it known that I’m uncertain…or perhaps intimidated by the fact this is my last concert. With Sherry, I knew I was in safe hands, musically and personally.”

From her research about Vivian, Eryn knew Sherry Millard was one of the most sought-after accompanists in the opera world. She wondered if Vivian had cut off all ties to her career.

Manon placed her napkin next to her plate. “If you’re not too picky and really need extra rehearsals, I could accompany you. I play the piano.”

Eryn stared at Manon.

“I’m not a virtuoso like Ms. Millard, but I’m not entirely bad.”

“You know
The Barber of Seville
?” Vivian asked. “I’d love to fine-tune my intonation and phrasing. Do you have time tomorrow evening?” She gestured, obviously imitating herself on stage. “I need to
be
Rosina, not just sing the aria.” With an overly dramatic motion of her chin, she mimicked a stereotypical opera singer. Then she laughed so resoundingly that several people turned their heads toward her.

“I have a baby grand, and my tall ceiling makes for decent acoustics. Why don’t you come over after rehearsals Friday?” Manon asked. “Then it doesn’t matter if it gets late.”

“That’s a great idea,” Eryn managed, and tried her best to sound convincing. She looked down at her hands squeezing the napkin into a ball and wondered what was erupting in her chest.
This is ridiculous. I can’t be jealous, for heaven’s sake.
“I had no idea you were musical too. You’re a woman of many talents, Manon.”

“Thank you. I’m good, but not great. I enjoy playing.” After scribbling something on the back of a business card, she handed it to Vivian. “Here’s my address. You already have my phone number. I’ll be home after six. We can order some takeout if you’re hungry.”

“What a wonderful solution.” Vivian closed her hand around the card. “I’m so grateful.”

Much to Eryn’s relief, Mike joined them. “Everything all right, ladies?”

“Everything’s fine.” Vivian’s expression mellowed as she looked at Mike. “Manon’s going to rehearse with me Friday, which leaves one less thing to worry about.”

Eryn wondered what else Vivian worried about. Ever since the press conference she’d sensed that Vivian had a hidden agenda, and she was also curious about the electricity between Vivian and Mike. Quite the odd couple, she thought while finishing her coffee, almost choking on the last sip.
Couple? Nah.

“That’s awesome,” Mike said and placed a hand on Vivian’s shoulder. “Let me know if I can walk Perry and Mason.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Vivian threw her hand into the air. “How could I forget the boys? Could you possibly let them out late Friday afternoon?”

“Why don’t you bring them over here when you leave for rehearsals? They can stay in my backyard, and I’ll be able to walk them several times.”

“Are you sure? You know how big they are. I’d have to bring you some of their food.”

Eryn’s eyebrows had just about reached her hairline. “I suppose we’re talking about dogs?”