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Authors: Charles Sheehan-Miles

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Romance, #Contemporary

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BOOK: Nocturne
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By the end of the show, I was emotionally exhausted. In order to be a great opera singer, you have to also be a great actress. That’s how it works. My mother took both to heights that made people’s jaws drop. That was her job. Her facial expressions, the movement of her body, and the pairing of that with her voice was something to behold. Nathan was still and silent through the entire show, and was buzzing with excitement by the end. On the rare occasions I saw her perform, I was fascinated by all the emotion my mother projected.

“That was amazing!” Nathan yelled as we stepped outside onto the cold March air. Puffs of frozen breath swirled around us as we laughed.

“It was certainly one of the best I’ve seen from her in a long time.” My dad nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets as we hurried to the Hyatt Regency, where my parents were staying.

We were going to meet my mom there for dinner and drinks. I hated the backstage scene after a show and always felt kind of crowded out anyway, so I always waited until an hour, or so, after a show to meet up with her. That way she was focused, and I could have her to myself for a little while. In the meantime, my two favorite men and I would sip drinks at the bar. A half hour later, my dad got a text from my mom that she was on her way over, when Nathan elbowed me and nodded to the far end of the bar.

“Look who it is.”

Leaning forward so I could see what he was looking at, I instinctively rolled my eyes. Gregory … Mr. Fitzgerald … whatever, was sitting at the bar having drinks with a woman I think I’d seen once or twice at the financial aid office on campus. She was turned toward him, resting her chin on her hand, staring at him like he was a prize. He, however, seemed to be having trouble figuring out where to look. His eyes darted between the bottom of his glass and the woman’s more-than-approving gaze.

“How about that, he has a social life.” Shrugging, I turned back to my conversation with my dad, but found myself watching the gruff recluse from the corner of my eye. Annoyed at the twinge of jealousy I felt toward the pleasant looking woman with hair and eyes almost the same color as mine, I hastily finished my drink and ordered another.

 

 

Gregory

“Another drink, Sir?” The bartender at the Hyatt Regency placed his hand on the bar in front of my drink.

“Please.” I nodded. “Another gin and tonic.” As he walked away to mix my drink, I turned to Karin. “That show was excellent, wasn’t it?” I asked. I knew it was.

Thankfully, Karin smiled. “It was spectacular. I haven’t been to the opera in ages, thank you for inviting me.” She gently placed her hand on my forearm.

I cleared my throat, thankful when the bartender returned with my drink. “I wouldn’t have missed this one for the world. Vita Carulli’s performance was exquisite. We’re lucky to have caught a show of hers, I understand she’s going to be retiring soon.”

While I typically favor instrumental-only performances, it is difficult to deny the pull of the opera. The way a person can use their voice and body as an instrument is something to be respected. I found it surprising that Vita was considering retirement. I’m certain years of singing is taxing on the voice, and all the traveling wears a person down. But, I couldn’t imagine what she would do after that. What does one do when they stop doing their life’s passion? The question made no sense in my brain. I didn’t follow her career well enough to know anything about her personal life. I don’t have time for those kinds of details. What I did know was there wasn’t anyone currently in the circuit who could sing like her.

“So why did you decide to take on teaching Madeline’s class?” Karin interrupted my thoughts.

I waved my hand dismissively. “She and James and I went through the conservatory together. She’s always been very kind to me, and she asked me to take over. I agreed.”

Honestly, it annoyed me when Madeline asked me if I would take over her upper-level theory class. Foundations are important, don’t get me wrong. They’re everything. But, early on I found myself getting extremely frustrated with the students who lacked the self-discipline to do the necessary work. I was much better off helping talented students reach the next level, rather than helping them get off the ground in the first place.

“How’s it going so far?”

“It’s going well, I suppose. I have a few students who seem to want to challenge every word that comes out of my mouth. I’m not really sure what it is they think they’re challenging. Notes are notes, scales are scales. What is there to discuss?”

I sipped the cool gin, letting it calm my insides. It’s not that I was nervous or uncomfortable around Karin, she was a lovely woman. It was, however, sometimes a struggle to think of anything other than my music. James was right, I needed a break sometimes. If Karin was really interested in me, she deserved better than the cold shoulder I was unintentionally offering her.

“What about you?” I asked, hoping to turn the attention off of me for a few minutes. “How’s work going?”

Karin beamed. “The endowment has actually stabilized really well. You know, given the state of arts in public schools nowadays, the alumnae are even more willing to give to the school so we can help run programs at public schools in the area.”

Her brown eyes lit up as she talked and, I’ll admit, I was impressed. I hadn’t given much thought to her job, but when I had, I assumed she was less involved with actual music than that. I was appreciative of her knowledge of the state of affairs in the arts world. In the middle of Karin telling me about a new fundraising initiative, a high-pitched giggle drew my eyes to the far side of the bar. Throwing her head back, in full laughter, was Savannah Marshall.

Her normally wild hair was twisted up elegantly away from her neck, held by a sparkling clip. She was wearing what appeared to be an expensive green silk dress that highlighted her long and lean frame. I wondered what sort of occasion garnered this kind of high fashion attire. She was stunning. She was with her boyfriend, Nathan, who never seemed to take his hands off of her, and another older man I didn’t recognize.

Karin wrapped her fingers around my forearm. “What are you looking at?” She tilted her head, trying to find my line of vision.

I took a deep breath. “Just another student who thinks they know everything already.” That wasn’t entirely true of Savannah. She really
did
have an incredible knowledge of music; it was her constant readiness to challenge me that I found infuriating.

“Savannah Marshall?” Karin asked, looking back to me.

“Yes, you know her?” I sat up straight, suddenly more interested in Karin’s knowledge of Savannah than her knowledge of the conservatory’s endowment.

Karin’s tone brightened. “Of course I know her ... or of her. She has a reputation as a real natural. I heard she played her final piece for her audition with her eyes closed. Weren’t you on that panel?”

Of course I was.
“So, what, does that mean she doesn’t practice as hard as the rest of her peers? Does she have license to slack off because people tell her she’s a natural?” I scoffed.

“I didn’t say that, Gregory. In fact, I’m not sure anyone’s ever
told
her she’s a natural. I do know she does happen to work very hard, but she doesn’t kill herself doing it.”

Karin arched her eyebrow, intending to direct the last part of her sentence to me. Then she said something completely inexplicable. “Of course, how hard she worked really wouldn’t have mattered, in her case.”

Before I could form a rebuttal and ask how exactly she knew anything about Savannah’s abilities, Savannah squealed in delight again. Shifting my gaze back to her end of the bar, my jaw dropped at the sight of Vita Carulli entering the bar and walking straight toward Savannah with a beaming smile on her face.
How in the world do those two know each other?
I knew nothing of Savannah other than what I could remember from her application to the school, but nothing that I recalled mentioned her studying with Vita Carulli.

I stared openly, pulling my eyebrows together to watch the interaction unfold. Without reverence, but maintaining her ever-present grace, Savannah nearly ran over to Vita and threw her arms around her neck, planting a kiss on her cheek before squeezing her close. Vita returned the gesture.

“What the hell?” I muttered, just under my breath.

“What?” Karin asked, seeming slightly agitated.

“How does Savannah Marshall know Vita Carulli?” I slid off my stool and absentmindedly made my way toward them.

“Gregory, that’s…” I lost Karin’s voice as I weaved through the now tightly packed bar, distracted by this out of place interaction.

As I approached Savannah, my pulse raced. I
had
to meet Vita.

“It’s so good to see you, darling,” I heard Vita say as I got closer. While I was excited at the prospect of meeting one of the best opera singers in the world within a few seconds, I was now completely invested in how Savannah was close enough to Vita Carulli to have her calling her “darling.”

Before Savannah could respond, she caught me standing there out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald … hi.” She seemed caught off guard as she bit her lip and looked between me and Vita.

“Hello, Ms. Marshall.” I nodded my head once. “I don’t meant to interrupt here, but, Ms. Carulli, I wanted to tell you that I was at your performance tonight and, truly, it was one of your finest.” I took her hand and kissed it once, catching Savannah as she scrunched her forehead and rolled her eyes. I didn’t know what I had done to elicit such a reaction from her.

“How kind of you … Mr. Fitzgerald, is it?” Vita’s speaking voice was just as gorgeous as her singing voice, which I didn’t consider was even possible.

“Yes. Gregory Fitzgerald.” I looked between Savannah and Vita for a moment, a sense of familiarity rising through my chest.

Savannah let out a slight sigh. “Mom, this is Gregory Fitzgerald, cellist for the BSO, and teacher of my music theory class.”

Did she just say Mom?

“Mr. Fitzgerald,” Savannah continued, somewhat hesitantly, “this is my mother, Vita Carulli.”

What?
My eyes moved to Karin, who gave a pointed nod toward Vita Carulli, as if to say,
See? Musical royalty.
I returned my focus to Vita and then Savannah, whose normally soft features seemed cold and stringent.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Carulli. See you in class, Savannah.”

Savannah held her head high as she gave a curt nod and a poor excuse for a smile.

I wandered back to the table impressed that Savannah hadn’t spent the last few years, to my knowledge, throwing her mother’s name around in the game of
Who has better genes
that the students insisted on playing with each other. Those students, though, needed that game. Their talent didn’t stand up to that which Savannah possessed. Whether through hard work or the genetic lottery, Savannah Marshall could be remarkably successful given the proper attention.

When I reached the bar and picked up my gin and tonic, now watered down with melting ice, I took one last look over my shoulder. As Nathan’s hand rested on the small of Savannah’s back, my jaw tensed. That was
not
the kind of attention Savannah needed to produce the results she was capable of.

She needed someone who took her career seriously.

Someone who took
her
seriously.

 

 

Savannah

“A
ren’t you freezing
, Savannah?” Nathan pulled me close as we walked quickly down the sidewalk to the dance club.

I stopped and twirled once on my tiptoes, allowing the skirt on my bright red dress to flare up around me. “Hell yes.” I laughed. “But, at least there’s no snow on the ground, so my feet won’t get wet.” I kicked up a heel of my silver strappy heels before maintaining our stride.

“You’ve been a little quiet in Fitzgerald’s class the last two weeks,” Nathan said out of nowhere.

“Nothing to say, I guess.” I shrugged.

Nathan stopped half a block from the club and turned me toward him. “Nothing to say? Come on, Savannah, I know you better than that. What gives? Yesterday he said something more archaic than usual and looked
right
at you, and you didn’t even bat an eyelash.” The dimple in his left cheek deepened as he grinned mockingly at me.

“Come on,” I sighed, “you saw how he looked at me when he met my mom…” I wrapped my arms around me as the wind whipped down the alley.

“Not this again, Savannah.” Nathan sighed and looked to the sky.

“Yes, this again. This always. People know who my mom is and they get this look on their face, like by knowing me, they’ve somehow touched the greatness that is Vita Carulli.” I was a little heavy-handed in my sarcasm, but this situation called for just that.

“Has he said anything to you?” Nathan shrugged and furrowed his brow.

“No, but the way his eyes lit up—”

Nathan cut me off. “What the hell do you care
what
he thinks?”

BOOK: Nocturne
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