Coffee Sonata (22 page)

“Really?” A small flame burned inside Eryn’s stomach at the unexpected praise.

“Yes. Which reminds me. Manon and I wanted you to have this.” Marjorie lifted the leather desk cover and pulled out a small envelope. “Here are ten tickets to the charity concert. Take your family and friends.”

“But that’s too much…” Eryn felt her face heat up. “They’re worth a fortune!”

“And so is your work going to be—priceless, in fact. Now enjoy the tickets and the performances in good health.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.” Eryn fingered the envelope while she tried to find her equilibrium. “I’ll try to portray your family with heart and accuracy—in that order. Can we talk at the same time next week?”

“That should be fine, but check with my assistant.”

“I will. And again, thanks for this offer. By the way, I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow at the party.”

Marjorie grimaced in a way that Eryn interpreted as either exasperation or sheer fatigue. “I’m sure I’ll see you, and half of East Quay.”

“You don’t sound too keen on the huge party idea.”

“I’m flattered, but let’s face it. I’m old. I’ve never been a party sort of person, and all the preparations and the money that have gone into this…well, let’s just say I’m a bit ambivalent.”

“I understand. Manon will be beside you, and you can call on me if you need reinforcements.”

Marjorie laughed deep in her throat. “I will, dear one.”

Eryn took Marjorie’s frail, cold fingers with care. “See you then.”

*

“Ms. Belmont! Manon!” The frantic voice behind her in the corridor made Manon flinch. She turned around to greet the former principal of East Quay High School.

“Mr. Rex,” she barely grunted.

“Manon, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Archie?” He sighed as he caught up with her. “I need your support.”

“With what?” Manon glanced around for help. Several people rushed by, but avoided her.
Traitors.

“You’re on the City Hall education committee, and people in the community respect your opinion. I need you to help me clear up this misunderstanding.”

“Which misunderstanding? The one where your budget crashed and burned, halfway through this semester? Or the one where you assaulted a reporter outside the school a week ago?”

“The budget can be repaired. I’ve talked to a private financial institute in Providence and—”

“That sounds dicey…and it’s not your choice. The school board decides what to do, and as far as I can tell, they’re going to fire you.”

“That’s where you come in, Manon!”

“Ms. Belmont to you, Mr. Rex. You lost your first-name privilege when you injured Ms. Goddard.”

“What the hell…” Rex stared at her. “She’s a friend of yours?”

“She’s my neighbor and, yes, a friend. You caused her a lot of pain, and she had a right to press charges.”

“She’s dragging my good name in the dirt!”

“You’re in this predicament because you swung at her and sent
her
flying into the dirt.” Manon took a deep breath. “Listen, Rex. You can still save your good name. Take responsibility for your actions, both at the school and injuring Ms. Goddard. From what I heard, it was more or less an accident. You can’t lord it over others and then expect them to be loyal. You’re dealing with good people and excellent teachers who care about the children. They’d back you if you stood up and admitted you were wrong.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Manon sighed. It was like talking to a lump of clay, but she truly believed every human being contained something salvageable, even a stubborn, egocentric bully like Archibald Rex.

“Apologize publicly to Ms. Goddard, the pupils, and their parents. That’s your only chance of keeping your job. Invite Leo Schwartz from the financial department at City Hall and discuss a new budget with him. Present it to the school board, and I’ll be there to make sure you get a fair response.”
Be a man. Or be human, for once. Get off your high horse and lose the macho attitude that got you into trouble in the first place.

It was difficult for Manon to disregard Eryn’s injuries right now. Deep down she wanted to throttle the man for the pain he caused the woman she… Manon’s breath caught in her throat.
Who am I to tell Rex to come clean and confess? I can’t even be truthful to myself!
She thought about the injured Eryn lying on her couch…dark red hair flowing down a smooth back, sleek muscles playing under pale skin, and her scent. Fruity, light, with a barely traceable vanilla base.

“You’d stand by me?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It depends on how you perform.” Manon forced herself to focus on Rex. “If your apologies are sincere and you have a good enough plan to get the school back on track financially, I may be able to persuade the school board to offer you a contract for another semester.”

Looking smaller, Rex took two steps back and leaned his left shoulder against the wall. He was pale, with beads of sweat on his tall forehead, and dragged a trembling hand over his face. “I can’t even show myself in the street without someone cursing me.”

“You may have to live with that for a while. It’s understandable that people are angry. Once you make things right, the people of East Quay will come around.”

“Very well,” Rex said doubtfully. I’ll call Leo this afternoon. I can’t live like this.”

“Good. I’m glad you realize that.” Manon hesitated. “And don’t forget Eryn Goddard. She’ll see through any falsity, so do it right.”

“Okay.” Rex extended a hand, slowly, as if he almost regretted it.

Manon squeezed it. “Good luck. Just do it, Archie.”

His massive chest heaved as he sighed. “Thank you, Manon. I won’t forget this.”

Manon hoped he wouldn’t. It had taken all her strength not to call him every name in the book, and she was proud to have reached him on a totally new level. They had butted heads at many meetings, and this was the first time she had really been able to talk to him.
Perhaps Eryn’s directness is rubbing off on me.

Her first reaction was to laugh at the thought, but the next second she understood that it was true. Eryn’s candid nature obviously affected her profoundly.

*

The crowd in the café produced a lively hum as they drank lattes, cappuccinos, and chai.

As Vivian stepped inside the door, the warm air steamed up her new glasses. It was hard to get used to wearing them, but they did help some. Right now, though, they were of little use so she removed them, blinked a few times, and, unable to get rid of the blur, remained just inside the door, uncertain where to go.

“Ms. Harding! Great to see you,” a vaguely familiar short, round figure to her left said. “I’m Martha Ivers. My husband Edward and I work for Mike.”

Relieved that one of the patrons hadn’t recognized her, Vivian smiled. “Hello, Martha. I’ve heard so much about you. Mike obviously regards you and your husband highly.”

“Ah, she’s a sweetheart. We think of her as family.”

Words of warning, perhaps?
Vivian kept her smile in place. “Is Mike here? I don’t have a reservation, but—”

“Mike isn’t working until tonight, but I’m sure I can find you a good spot. I assume you’d like some privacy?”

Was there a forced tone in Martha’s voice? Vivian thought so, but wasn’t sure.

“The counter will be fine, thank you. I just wanted some of Mike’s latte.”

“Well, fortunately she’s taught me her secrets, so I won’t disappoint you there, at least.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” Vivian asked as she followed Martha. She sat down on the stool with great care and took off her blue scarf, damp from the slight mist outside.

“Oh, Mike isn’t out. She’s in her apartment.”

“Is she ill?” Vivian knew she sounded more concerned than a casual friend would but couldn’t help it.

Martha paused before answering. “No, she’s fine. She was feeling under the weather this morning and just needed some rest.” She lowered her voice. “She’s been a little stressed and tired lately.”

“Are you gossiping again, love?”

“Hey, don’t give me that, Edward.” Martha gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is Vivian, a friend of Mike’s. It’s not gossip to let her know Mike’s not up to par.”

“If you say so.” Edward Ivers was a tall, bulky man with thinning gray hair. He extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you as well,” Vivian said, and shook his hand. “I can’t help but worry about Mike. I thought she never missed a day.”

“She seldom does,” Martha said. “But on rare occasions, like today, she takes an afternoon off. She works every day of the week otherwise, so I can’t say I blame her.”

Vivian knew there might be more to Mike’s absence this time than Martha realized.
I can’t very well tell them this might be because of me. They’d want to know why.

She watched the blurred outline of Martha rummage around by the espresso machine, and soon a steaming glass of latte stood in front of her. “Thank you.” The aroma hit her nostrils and Vivian inhaled the seductive scent of the hot drink. Carefully wrapping her hands around the glass, she warmed her cold fingers against it before sipping. A sudden voice to her left almost made her choke in surprise.

“Hello, Vivian, we meet again.”

Vivian coughed to avoid inhaling the coffee and looked sideways. “Eryn,” she said, still hoarse. “Hello.”

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Vivian coughed again.

“I think Eryn’s trying to kill our prima donna and jeopardize the entire charity event,” another, more familiar, voice said. Manon showed up at Eryn’s side. “She’s dangerous to herself and others, as you can tell.”

“Funny, Belmont,” Eryn huffed. “Just because I have one small run-in with the principal doesn’t mean I’m self-destructive…or destructive in any way.”

“Not so sure about that.” Manon laughed deep in her throat. “Look at poor Vivian.”

“Poor Vivian” had finally cleared her windpipe long enough to speak for herself. “Please, join me for a cup of coffee,” she said. “I’d love some company.”
Now that Mike isn’t here.

“Great,” Eryn said, and lowered a large case that she’d carried on her back. “I managed to persuade Manon to come with me, since I wanted to show her Mike’s drums.” Eryn sat next to her, and Manon moved to the stool on Vivian’s far left.

Vivian’s curiosity stirred. “Mike’s drums?” She let her hand rest on the neck of the guitar case between them. “Are you going to play together?”

“I’ve been thinking about how we’re all into music, one way or another. I mean, you’re the only pro, but the rest of us aren’t half bad.”

“At least we can play without making fools of ourselves,” Manon said, and Vivian thought she detected a trace of tenderness.

“You know, you’re right.” Vivian leaned her elbow against the counter so she could make eye contact with both of them. “Drums, guitar, piano, and voice.”

“And you should hear Mike play the drums…” Eryn frowned. “Speaking of drums, isn’t that what she’s doing now? Can you guys hear that?”

Vivian tried to listen through the buzz of the crowd and soon made out a rhythmic beat with a curiously unsettling frenzy. “I hear it,” she murmured. Why was Mike playing her drums like that?
Is it because of me? Or am I just being self-centered?

Concerned, and with a strong urge to see Mike right away, she turned to Martha, who had just appeared behind the desk. “Is it all right if we go downstairs and visit Mike?” She wasn’t sure why she asked Mike’s employee, but she trusted her instinct.

Martha stepped closer and wiped her hands on a towel attached to her black apron. “Normally I wouldn’t suggest anybody disturbing her when she’s in one of her moods,” she answered slowly, “but in this case, I think…yes, why not. If she doesn’t want company, she’ll tell you.”

“Join me?” Vivian asked Eryn and Manon over her shoulder.

“Sure,” Eryn said, and grabbed her guitar case.

Martha beckoned them behind the counter and through a black curtain leading to the narrow staircase Vivian had descended once before. She felt along the wall for the handrail, the dim light making it nearly impossible for her to see.

“Are you okay, Vivian?” Manon asked. “Want me to go first?”

“No, I’m fine. Be careful, though. This is a very old building and the steps are uneven.”

“Tell me about it,” Eryn muttered. “They’re sloping.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Vivian stopped in front of an oak door. The sound of drums was louder now. She hesitated only briefly before knocking, but soon realized Mike couldn’t hear her. Feeling around for a bell, she found nothing but a doorknob.

“We’ll have to just go in and call her,” she told the others.

“Okay.” Manon nodded. “Let’s hope she doesn’t think we’re completely invading her privacy.”

Vivian grabbed the doorknob, turned it halfway, and heard a resounding click. The door moved a fraction of an inch, then she pushed it open enough to poke her head in. The tiny hallway was dark, but a faint light came from the living room. “Mike? It’s Vivian! Can you hear me?” She tried to drown out the drums. “Mike? It’s me,
cara
!” She noticed Eryn and Manon exchange glances at her affectionate wording.
Perhaps they’ll eventually guess that Mike and I are more than friends. I really don’t care. I just hope Mike hasn’t changed her mind. The way she’s beating those drums…It sounds as if she has a lot of pent-up energy.