Crime & Counterpoint (42 page)

Zach was having trouble breathing. Next to him, his grandmother held his hand as he tried his best to keep his nervous energy from expressing itself in ungentlemanly ways.

Shelley had just glided gracefully onto the stage; his first glimpse of her in months. The spotlights hit her beautifully and made her skin glow and her almost waist-length hair, which hung in soft curls down her back, shine to a glossy finish. He soaked in the heart-pounding sight, even though it was from afar.

It was stupid, he knew, but all he wanted to do right now was run up the aisle and tell her right this second that she was incredible, that he loved her to death, and that he wanted her to play for him every day for the rest of his life.

When the conductor gave the signal after Shelley had folded her angelic frame onto the bench, the clarinetist began the familiar low-end trill of “Rhapsody in Blue” which glissandoed up to the high-pitched intro melody flavored with jazz. The brass came in underneath in padded chords.

Unable to take his eyes off her, he saw the moment she lifted her hands and placed them on the white and black keys. The orchestra cut out for a few measures to let her have her say. Those first notes burned into his memory and gave him a thrill he could not have anticipated. He nearly crushed his grandmother’s hand.

Abigail looked over at him with both concern and amusement. A smile turned into a grin at his obvious adoration for the pianist.

As the piece gained in intensity and delightful rhythmic harmony, he found he had to force himself to take a breath on a number of occasions. She was passionate and alive – her every note moving his deepest emotions. He loved the way her whole body seemed to move with her sweeping performance. She was music itself, he thought. And he wanted her.

By the stirring end of the piece, he thought his chest might burst with the sensations she aroused. And his desire for her only heightened in intensity.

Rancorous ovation exploded directly after the conductor cut off the final chord. He saw her slowly wipe her hands on the soft folds of her silvery white dress and flex her fingers a few times discreetly. His right leg jackhammered – anxious for her. She wasn’t done yet, and according to her father, this next one was the real trial. His eyes remained barely blinking and locked on her beautiful, spotlight-ethereal profile.

He was oblivious to the way both Carter and Rick glanced at him with knowing smirks in the quiet space between numbers. Carrie, holding Jared’s hand, peeked around their grandmother to grip Zach’s arm and whisper excitedly to him, “This is it!”

Nerves fired all over his body. He couldn’t say anything back. Out of curiosity, he glanced behind him at Henri and saw the look of pure pride radiating on his countenance. Zach thought he understood the man now and even felt a sense of camaraderie with him. Same team after all.

Then, the grand finale of the concert began with the conductor making a special announcement.

“…Ladies and gentleman, allow me to speak off-program for a moment,” the venerable maestro said, causing Henri to double-check his handbill and frown slightly.

“Ten years ago, due to a tragic accident, one of the premiere concert violinists of our time had to take a somewhat permanent hiatus from the stage. I think many of you know of whom I speak.”

Henri’s pulse intensified. He felt the vacancy of the seat next to him. Carol still hadn’t returned.

“…Since youth, she was heralded by critics worldwide for her extraordinary technical mastery of the instrument as well as her singular expressionism. Thus, she was dubbed the far more attractive Paganini.” He chuckled as the crowd rippled with laughter. “And for good reason.”

Hands tightening around the program, Henri couldn’t take a breath.

“…And tonight, I have the immense privilege of bringing her back to the Lincoln Center for a special performance – hopefully the first of many to come. I cannot describe to you my personal excitement over collaborating with her again. But even more so because the young talent we just heard” – he gestured to Shelley – “is our surprise guest artist’s daughter. And she composed our final number several years ago with her mother in mind.” He smiled as the audience applauded.

Henri couldn’t move. How was this happening?! His sons glanced at him, but he was scarce aware.

“…Please join me in welcoming back to the stage Carolina Descartes!”

Henri’s world imploded as Carol miraculously materialized beneath the spotlights. His eyes watered before she even played a note. He was taken back thirty-two years to the first time he’d ever seen Carol. On stage. With heaven’s rays shining down on her mahogany hair and bare feet.

The debut performance of Shelley’s magnum opus began with Carol alone. The first multiphonic strains that exuded from the Stradivarius pierced Henri’s core. His palms turned hot and sweaty, nervous for Carol. Nervous for his little girl. Had they even practiced together? Surely not. He would’ve known.

But a minute into Carol’s heart-rending soliloquy beneath the shimmering rain of spotlights, the ebony depths of the Steinway came in underneath the violin and in tune. While Carol’s bow worked in furious runs over the strings, Shelley’s fingers danced over the keys. The synchronicity was nothing short of perfection.

Then, after mother and daughter concluded their passionate, flourishing intro, they suspended their final notes and Shelley looked to the rhythm section – borrowed from the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra itself. She snapped her fingers, dictating the tempo, and though she’d averted her face from the audience, the audience distinctly heard her counting them in.

Both Zach and Henri’s pulse thudded loudly in time with the driving pulse she’d dictated.

Then, in virtuosic, Liszt-ian fashion, Shelley attacked the keys in technically-draining, hammering octaves which scaled the length of the piano. Zach couldn’t believe she had the strength to sustain such a mad pace. Henri, on the other hand, just swelled with pride, fully aware of her skills. The expression and dynamics she injected into every note was palpable and felt by even the most unexperienced of listeners.

As the piece progressed, the orchestration seemed to battle between jazz and classical, Ellington and Paganini, in such a way that there was little chance anyone in the audience could not have been on the edge of their seats.

Feeling drawn in by this living universe of tense, harmony-rich sound, Zach gripped his grandmother’s hand. Abigail’s smile sheened with stardust tears. He couldn’t believe she’d written this. Couldn’t believe this was the same woman he’d first laid eyes upon at a steakhouse, the same woman who now had his heart. Whom he loved with undying devotion.

Likewise, Henri kept his focus on his fire-breathing wife, unable to describe the tenderness and love he felt for her at this moment. The performance came to a resounding conclusion before he was ready for it to end. Then, without realizing it, he had joined everyone in a standing ovation. He smiled with pride as his girls faced the audience of over two thousand. He could see the relief in Shelley’s shining countenance and the way Carol’s chest expanded with great breaths like she’d been running.

Zach couldn’t tell how his hands started throbbing from clapping so hard. Then, Shelley looked into the darkened audience as she took her final bow and locked eyes with him. At least, he thought she did. Her smile wavered, her gold-flecked marbles dimmed, and he wanted badly to go to her. To assure her of why he was there.

“Hold your horses,” Carter said under the applause.

Zach looked over at his friend. “I know. But the wait is killing me.”

Carter smiled broadly. “Then get going.”

Erik was the first to give his sister a hug that lifted her off her feet. “That was amazing!” he exclaimed, setting her down. Keeping an arm around her, he looked around proudly. “That’s right! I’m her big brother everybody,” he yelled loud enough for the chatty concert attendees to hear as they flooded out of the hall. “Just want you all to know that!”

Shelley was too high with post-performance adrenaline to be properly embarrassed. James enveloped her in his arms and told her, “I knew you could do it.” Her heart squeezed at his total sincerity. Then Clint and Ben lumbered over to embrace her simultaneously.

Carol claimed her daughter with an ear-splitting squeal and a wealth of emotion that threatened the integrity of her fiery red, chiffon evening gown. She squeezed Shelley so hard the latter couldn’t breathe. Then she let go and held her by the shoulders. “You did it,
mi hija
!”

Eyes brimming, Shelley beamed. “I can’t believe you’re playing again,” she said in awe.

Carol gripped her daughter’s shoulders. “Forget about me. Tonight is about you! How does it feel?”

Shelley shook her head slowly and embraced her mother again, holding on. There was nothing she could’ve said to describe how she really felt. Bursting with excitement. Wanting to cry and laugh and shout all at the same time. Exhilarated. Inspired. And the only thing that would make this experience more wonderful was if–

She scanned the small crowd of her family and friends and spotted Carter, hoping to find Zach. She’d been so certain she’d seen him… Oh well. Must’ve been her overactive mind in that one magical moment.

Her spirits fell, but there was no time for sinking into depression now, especially not when she was getting so much love and attention. She was hugged by no less than twenty people, her godparents, Ashleigh, Melissa, and Brad included. Even Rick, gave her a peck on the cheek, telling her she ought to be proud of herself. Carrie and Jared came and squeezed her in tandem.

Then it was picture time, and Barbara did the honors though Bill had to come over and finagle the camera because it was new and digital and his wife had no idea what she was doing.

Afterwards, everyone moved out into the grand foyer of the Lincoln Center where all Van Cliburn finalists were made to stay long enough to sign autographs if any should want them. Shelley signed copies of “Rhapsody in Blue” from aspiring piano students and many more concert programs alongside Carol who definitely garnered a great deal of attention. In fact, even a certain Australian physician materialized to tell her she was sensational. She glanced at her shark of a husband and gave a wink. Henri wasn’t nearly as amused.

The compliments didn’t stop, and Shelley felt humbled by the celebrity treatment – even by Van Cliburn winners – for her composition which was apparently a smashing success. She even got a rather heady proposal from a handsome German conductor, visiting from London, who had time on his hands and money to burn. He wanted her to travel the world with him, spouting words of praise and promises of top-billed concerts. But though this was precisely the sort of dream that had set her eyes sparkling as a child, the idea just didn’t appeal to her anymore.

He didn’t take her polite refusal at face value, but daddy and a basketful of the brightest legal counsel in Manhattan came to decline. Firmly. She smiled to herself as
Herr
Fürst stalked away, miffed.

Sometimes, it paid to have a house full of men.

Before the audience had cleared, she received yet another bombshell. An assistant dean from Juilliard came to greet and congratulate her on the outstanding performance. “We’ll have your diploma ready for you to pick up sometime next week. Or if you prefer we can mail it to you,” he said kindly.

Her eyes bulged. “I don’t understand.”

“For your DMA, of course. I and the others on the jury were most pleased with what we heard tonight. Of course, we would like to have a copy of the score for records. But” – he put up a hand – “no hurry.”

She barely could utter a thank you before the dean shook her hand and moved on. Her father drew near. “I can’t believe it. They’re giving me my doctorate,” she said quietly, turning to him. But the moment she saw the look on his face, hers changed to astonishment. “You knew?”

Henri smiled. “Well, I did
sort of
call and invite them. I hoped it would suffice for your dissertation.”

Speechless, Shelley hugged him. Pleased with her response, Henri said, “Are you ready to head to the club now? I dare say you need a good meal.”

Shelley gave no protest; she was in a cloud and couldn’t have signed her name right if she tried. As James came to lead her away, she thought over everything that had transpired and marveled to herself. She doubted anything else could surprise her tonight.

The Purple Gazelle exuded a dazzling, neon glow that warmed the unusually sultry spring night. A gentle breeze teased the large fountain which gushed fuchsia and gold from the colored lights in the middle of the club’s landscaped turnaround. The venue was open tonight, of course, and the parking lot, per usual, overflowed.

Shelley, surrounded by her brothers, alighted from the family Lexus, and as the valet came to take the car, he tossed her a smile, catching the keys from James. “Had about sixty guys asking where you were, Shell.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“I said you had more important fish to fry.” He grinned. “Heard you knocked ‘em dead down at the Lincoln Center.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “They looked pretty alive when they left.”

He chuckled. “Well, your table’s all set-up. Enjoy.”

James took her hand. “What do you want for your birthday?”

She eyed him quizzically and then shrugged. “Nothing. Mom’s playing again. Dad’s happy. I’ve got everything I need.”

Erik put his arm around her. “He said want, Shelley.
Want
.”

She looked between the two of them as her privileged twin brothers stared at glowing cellular devices. “I don’t know. World peace. How about that? Oh! Longer fingers.” She spread out her hands and Erik sagged.

“You have no imagination.”

She laughed.

“Come on, let’s go,” James said, nudging her forward. “By the time we sit down and order it’s gonna be ten o’clock.”

But she resisted, searching the street and the driveway. “Where are Mom and Dad? I wanted us to enter together as a family.”

James cleared his throat. “Uh, Dad said to get started without them.”

She looked at him. “Why?” Seeing his telling expression, she grew mortified. “Are you kidding?”

But Erik took it in stride. “Hey, Dad’s a virile guy with a fairly healthy appetite. It’s how he got mom in the first place.”

“Erik, do
not
say another word,” Shelley ordered.

“What? Why do you think there’s so many of us? We’re not even Catholic.”

She groaned, turning as red as her natural tan would allow. “That’s it.” She walked to the curb and raised her arm. “Taxi!”

Laughing, Erik pulled her back. “Such propriety. I’m just kidding. God!”

James glanced at the twins who were still thumbing away on their phones. “Hey! Yin and Yang, let’s go!”

Ben and Clint hustled over at his command but gave him the finger – albeit smilingly. James swatted them upside the head, and the five siblings entered the club to the blast of screaming trumpets and pillows of thick, creamy sound.

Dinner went by fast with plenty of food, libations, and music. Shelley avoided having to play until the rhythm section spotted her. The band director made an embarrassing announcement that it was in fact “our talented pianist’s birthday, and she’s gonna play us something special”.

At least she was all warmed up.

With her family and friends hooting, Shelley made her way to the stage amidst a wealth of applause and smiling faces focused on her from every table, booth, and alcove. Several extended a hand for her to shake as she passed.

Her parents came in just as she hiked up her gown and ascended the stage steps. The substitute pianist – a man in his thirties with a goatee – got up and swept his hand towards the bench in an ‘it’s all yours’ gesture.

She thanked him and took a seat, catching Jean’s coffee and cream smile.

“What’ll it be, Shelley?” he asked.

She thought about it for all of two seconds. The answer came quickly. “How about ‘Almost Like Being in Love’?”

The director nodded and everyone flipped through their fat, alphabetized, leather folders of sheet music, finding the song in short order. The drummer kicked it off, and the upbeat, medium swing threatened the integrity of the dome.

Shelley beamed as she dug her hands into the keys, feeling weightless. A song of thankfulness leapt from her heart as she began to belt the vocals into the mic.

“
What a day this has been… What a rare mood I’m in… Why it’s almost like being in love…
”

Henri gripped Carol’s hand as he led his talented bride of thirty-two years to their seats at the huge table, situating her next to Barb and Bill who gave them knowing appraisals.

“Car trouble?” Bill asked.

Henri smirked as he took his seat. “It’s the damnedest thing.”

Carol smiled at him, leaning back against him.

“
There’s a smile on my face… For the whole human race… And it’s almost like being in love.”

Henri lowered his head and kissed her shoulder tenderly.

Barb appraised them over her champagne. “Carol, weren’t you wearing your hair up? What happened? It was so nice that way.”

Unconcerned, Carol ran her fingers through her free-flowing tresses which sheened even in the soft-lit atmosphere. “Well, it was hurting so I took it down.” She massaged her head for emphasis.

“I like it this way,” Henri rumbled near her ear. He slid his hand along her thigh and squeezed.

Bill watched Henri’s fixation with his wife. “You know for a moment there, I thought maybe you two got a room.”

“Oh, we did,” Carol blurted.

Henri shook his head, disappointed. “It’s a good thing you’re easy to love.”

Carol’s mouth opened in shocked offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Diffusing her ire, he whispered into her ear, “
Danser avec moi, ma chère.
” And like two young lovers, they stole away from the table with scarcely a glance at their strapping sons or the rest of the party, and made their way to the crescent-shaped area by the stage.

Bill looked at Barb, nursing her champagne glass. “I think you’re trying to tell me something.”

She shrugged lightly. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” She sipped with maddening insouciance, keeping her focus on stage.

Bill chucked his napkin. “Okay. Let’s go.” He took her elbow as he scraped his chair back.

She didn’t yield readily but the vaguest hint of a smile escaped as she set her glass down and allowed Bill to lead her by the hand to the dance floor.

Inspired by their parents, all the younger generation paired off – Erik with Ashleigh, Brad with Melissa, Jared with Carrie, Carter with his charming date. After vaulting their glasses of wine down their gullets, the twins exhibited their venturesome side and nabbed beautiful girls who knew, of course, that they were up and coming associates of Mitchel, Weston & Sons.

James, being the last man sitting, turned to Abigail and said, “Would you care to dance, Mrs. Weston?”

Abigail eyed him with a grandmother’s concern. “Wouldn’t you rather ask that nice young lady over there?” She subtly indicated an exotic-looking girl with raven hair, bronze skin, and green eyes at a table full of tuxedoed gentlemen. However, she seemed utterly bored.

James shot her a double-take as if he hadn’t before noticed her. “Looks like she’s with someone.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Abigail crooned, but a mischievous light entered her eyes. “However, if you insist.” She discarded her napkin and rose gracefully.

James smirked and stood as well, towering over her almost as much as Zach. Chivalrously, he extended his arm, and she threaded her weathered hand through the crook of his elbow.

“You know, James,” she said as he escorted her towards the dance floor, “you don’t have to dwell in your father’s shadow.”

He frowned, dipping his head to hear her better. “Excuse me?”

“By the way,” Abigail said, glancing around, “she’s looking.”

James smirked and shook his head. “Mrs. Weston, you’re a sphinx.”

Abigail chuckled. “Aren’t I just?”

As they reached the crowded dance floor, however, James couldn’t help but search for the strikingly alluring female, and sure enough she was looking. At him. Their eyes met, and his well-guarded heart beat just a touch faster.

“
All the music of life seems to be… like a bell that is ringing for me… And from the way that I feel when that bell starts to peel, I could swear I was falling, I could swear I was falling, it’s almost like being in love!”

“This isn’t a dream, is it, Daddy?” Shelley asked sleepily from the passenger’s seat of the Audi R8 later that night. “I didn’t just fall out of bed this morning and hit my head really hard. Did I?”

Henri smirked as he turned the steering and veered the sporty car along the winding Plandome Road – the Bay glittering on one side. “No, sweetheart,” he replied, reaching for her hand and warming it. “But the night’s not over yet.”

Something in his tone made her look at him. “But I’m tired.”

He shook his head, streetlights intermittently illuminating his clean-shaven features. “It’s still your birthday for another forty-five minutes.”

“Oh no. I hope you didn’t do anything too crazy. Like last year when you bought me this car.”

“Charity auction, darling. And you’ve never used it.”

“Because I didn’t want it to get stolen,” she retorted, gesturing to the general vehicle. “I mean it’s beautiful!”

“That’s why I got it. I saw it, and immediately thought of you.”

She sighed and leaned her head back against the leather seat, feeling the undeniably pleasant vibrations of the R8 in question. “Daddy, I don’t want you doing anything more for me,” she said with sweet seriousness. “Okay? Julliard, the concert, this dress” – she swept her hand across her lap, feeling the exquisitely soft satin. It felt like cream against her body. “It’s all too much. You don’t have to keep pampering me. I’m okay. Really, I am.”

Henri fell silent, thinking ruefully about
all
that he had done. “You dropped ten pounds, your mother says.”

“Because I got sick.”

“You lost it after Zach left.”

Shelley’s hand flew to her face, and her eyes closed with sudden nausea. “Daddy,
please
,” she implored piteously.

The car decelerated, and he kept quiet as they crossed the border of the estate. He pulled into the long driveway, which was already packed with cars.

Shelley peeked through her fingers and frowned. “What’s this? Another party?”

He didn’t directly answer her as he pulled to the front entrance, taking the turnaround. “Well, I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said as he applied the brakes and brought the car to a gentle stop in front of the double-door entrance. “Because there is one more thing I arranged.”

She pursed her lips in pretend displeasure. “Just one?” she sassed.

He chuckled. “Okay. Perhaps two.”

She sighed through a smile. “You spoil me.”

“Only because you’re un-spoilable.” He pulled out an envelope from the inside of his Fioravanti suit and handed it to her. “Happy birthday.”

She smiled, curious, and at the same time gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, Daddy, you really shouldn’t have.” She withdrew a few sheets of folded paper. “It’s what I always wanted a legal doc–”

In shock, she scanned the jargon, doubling back over it, unsure she’d read it correctly the first time. She understood quite clearly what it all meant, but how could this be possible? “You bought me the
club
?”

Henri could have taken the free ticket and lied; after all, Zach had given him leave to do as much. But… “No, I didn’t,” he answered. “Cervenka signed the club over to someone else who wanted
you
to have it.”

Her skin prickled over the way her father said ‘someone’. She folded the documents and reinserted them into the envelope, carefully. “Who?”

“You’ll have to find out for yourself.” He indicated the doors.

Nevertheless, one glance at her father told her everything she needed to know. Impulsively, she reached across the seats and hugged his neck. No words could come.

Henri’s throat closed as his hand pressed against her hair. Rapidly, he blinked to evict moisture from his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” He felt her arms tighten and knew he’d done the right thing.

Tears lancing down her cheeks, she pulled away. Henri wiped them away with a pained smile. “Go on. You’ll find your second present in the library.”