Playing the Maestro (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Rift

Wolf sped away with his mind in a whirlwind. Thank goodness they’d seen that Ms. Maxhammer poser before their kiss led to other things—things he, at the moment, couldn’t have controlled. Sure, it hurt like hell to pull away, but he knew it was best for both of them.

He had to focus on the orchestra. He’d been reckless. What if it
had
been Ms. Maxhammer? He’d never hear the end of it, and both their positions would surely be jeopardized. Now just wasn’t not the time for romance.

Wolf navigated the empty streets, looking for a parking place close to his apartment. A haphazardly parked truck caked in mud took up two spots right in front of his brick building. Cursing, Wolf circled around and chose a spot a block down. As he parallel parked, stuffing his car between two Oldsmobile boats, he tried to calm his raging emotions. The brisk walk down the block would be good for him. He knew he wouldn’t sleep unless he worked out his adrenaline-wired limbs.

Wolf strolled through the quiet city streets, letting the night air cool his burning passion. Sure, Melody helped him forget about Alda, but did he really want to be in love again? Alda had used him for his money and loved him for his fame. Those facts still burned inside him. Did he really want to reopen his heart and give it to someone else to pummel? Melody lit his heart on fire, and he thought she had the right intentions, but could he really trust her? Surely she knew a relationship with him would sabotage her job, not secure it.

Wolf’s jaw tensed as he reached the door and slid his key in the lock. He shouldn’t even be bothered with thoughts like these. He had too much to deal with already. He’d have to cool it with Melody if he ever wanted to get that orchestra on its feet and impress the board. He needed to get his life in order, secure his place here in the States. He was a fool to seek new love.

Wolf jogged past the mailboxes and up the stairs to his apartment. When he opened the door, his favorite scent of mint and lavender wafted into the hallway, reminding him of home. He slipped off his overcoat and hung it on the doorknob of his bedroom.

He balanced on the mantel while slipping off his shoes, staring at the only decoration in his apartment. A picture of him and Johann in front of the Berlin Wall as kids in 1989 stood propped against an old, empty ceramic vase. His chunk of the spray-painted wall was still at his parents’ house in an old shoebox, and he reminded himself to have his dad mail it overseas next time he called.

Wolf had framed that particular memory because he felt like it had brought him and his brother together in a collective moment of peace. They’d fought a lot growing up, and their age difference didn’t help. Johann was always the more reasonable, logical one, and Wolf was ruled by his emotions, which still happened in moments of weakness.
Like tonight.

He threw his shoes across the room. They bounced once on the door and settled on the doormat.
I won’t let myself lose control again.

Wolf adjusted the frame, wiping dust off his brother’s face. Before Johann went off to college, he had offered to drive them to the wall, and Wolf had agreed, mostly to get out of school for the day. Johann’s old Volkswagen had broken down, and they’d ended up spending more time together than they’d thought. But they had so much fun backpacking their way home, buying food and supplies from peddlers on the street. For the first time, his brother became his protector, and Johann rose to the occasion.

After that trip, Johann left for college, but he always called Wolf to check in. Which made him realize that his brother hadn’t called him since he left for the States. Johann had never liked Alda, and had blamed himself for the fact that she’d gotten between them. But he knew Wolf had broken up with her. He’d told Johann about his decision before he left, thinking it was the first step toward fixing their relationship.

So why hadn’t Johann called?

Settling a rising current of unease, Wolf dug in a pile of stacked, unopened mail and found his iPod underneath an old CVS flyer. He slipped his earbud in and turned on some Linkin Park. Only music curbed his raging emotions and soothed his soul.

He stripped down to his boxers and jumped, his hands clutching the bar he’d nailed into the ceiling. He pulled himself up, feeling the satisfying burn in his tired muscles. In college, he could do thirty pull-ups before breaking a sweat. In the five years since he graduated, he’d spent too much time on his music.

“
Eins, cwei, trei
…”

He did twenty-five pull-ups before his tense muscles relaxed. He jumped to the floor, refusing to think of Melody, Alda, Blake, or even Johann.

Collapsing into bed, he let the music take over and closed his eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Sour Grapes

Violet’s chubby little legs kicked the grocery cart underneath her.
Clink clunk, clink clunk, clink clunk.
Every time her sneakers hit, they flashed with aqua light.

“Honey, be good for Auntie Melody, okay?” Laini muttered absently as she examined a bag of red grapes.

“Grocery stores are boring.” Violet crossed her arms and pouted, refusing to look her mom or Melody in the eye.

“You can pick a candy bar at the register, if you’re a good girl.” Laini put the bag of grapes back, and Melody watched a loose one bounce on the floor.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“They smell funny.” Laini wrinkled her nose and moved on to the strawberries.

Melody picked up an ugly fruit and handed it to Violet. “How about this one?”

“Ewwww. Gross. Looks like a turtle turd.” Violet pushed the wrinkly fruit away and Laini laughed. “Make sure you find your own groceries as well as entertaining Princess Violet.”

“I will.” Melody grabbed a bag of apples and threw it in her basket. She only had herself to feed, so she didn’t need a whole lot. She mostly came to spend time with her niece, help her sister, and get updates on their lives. She’d made an effort to come on this particular trip to check up on Violet’s condition. She waited until Laini had parked the carriage and Violet was busy playing with the deli number counter. “How’s Violet doing?”

Laini sighed, and the muscles in her chin twitched with vulnerability. “We’re keeping an eye on her. No more attacks.”

Melody breathed easier. “That’s good.”

“Still, I wonder about how this condition will affect her future. What if she wants to be on the swim team, or worse, the track team? Or play the flute, for God’s sake?”

Melody put a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. “I have a few students who use inhalers, and they do just fine. We’ll deal with it when the time comes. Besides, she may want to follow in your footsteps and work for Make-A-Dream.”

“Yeah, right.” Laini rolled her eyes. “That girl is more likely to climb on top of the desk than sit behind it.”

“Everyone grows up sometime.”

“Except musicians,” Laini teased.

Melody tossed a grapefruit in her basket and shook her head. “Hey, not all of them are that bad.” As soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have defended them. She’d fallen right into Laini’s trap.

“Speaking of musicians…” Laini took a moment from reading the label on a jar of salad dressing to look Melody right in the eye. “How did the date go? Did the sequins work?”

Melody felt heat rise to her cheeks and neck.
A little too well…
She’d been thinking all morning of what to tell her sister, but still no coherent words came.

“Looks like it went better than I thought.” Laini threw Melody a pack of wheat rolls, which she dropped in the cart before pretended to be busy examining a tomato. “It’s too early to tell.”

“I can tell enough from the look on your face.” Laini laughed. “You’re practically as red as that tomato.”

Melody dropped it in a produce bag. Behind them, the young man in the deli announced, “Number fifty-four.”

They both turned to the pile of crinkled numbers on Violet’s lap. An older man stood behind their cart with a frown while his ice cream melted in the front of his carriage. The number in his hands was seventy-eight.

“Oh jeez.” Laini ran to the deli counter. “Um, I think that’s us.”

As Laini tried to smooth things over by purchasing a small, quick order of meats and cheeses, Melody wheeled the cart away from the deli. “Let’s throw these numbers out, shall we?”

“Nun-uh.” Violet hugged them to her chest and stray numbers rained on the floor around them.

Melody scrambled to pick up every piece of paper. “Come on, honey. I’m sure we can find something more interesting for you to hold.”

Violet shook her head. “They’re for Mrs. Shell.”

Kids’ imaginations never ceased to surprise her. “Honey, turtles don’t eat paper.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shell do.”

Melody grabbed a handful of papers and shoved them in her pocket. “No, all turtles eat bugs.”

“Ewww.” That was Violet’s new favorite word. She glared at Melody as if her aunt had told her the biggest lie ever. “No one eats bugs. Not even turtles.”

There was no talking sense into a five-year-old. Melody had given up when Laini found them and dumped a pile of deli bags into the cart. “Any luck?”

Melody gave Laini an apologetic smile. “I tried, but she won’t give them up.”

Laini’s shoulders slumped. “Let her have them. She’ll loose interest eventually.”

“Eventually” came a second later. Violet’s eyes widened as she looked over their shoulders. “Look! It’s Mozart!”

Melody froze, heart thumping. Goose bumps broke out all over her body, and they weren’t even in the freezer aisle.
Naw. It can’t be.
Lots of people wore powdered wigs in the grocery store, right?

Laini’s mouth dropped open. “Either I’m hallucinating, or a total hottie just walked off one of those soap-opera magazine covers.”

Melody’s heart seized and she felt like she’d melt into a puddle on the floor. It was him. She hadn’t talked to Wolf since the date, and she wasn’t ready. Especially not in the grocery store with a five-year-old on the verge of a tantrum.
Not now.

Laini looked her up and down. “You’re not telling me that’s him, are you? Because if you are, I might just have to pull a
Freaky Friday
on you and swap bodies.”

Melody glanced over her shoulder. Wolf was perusing the bins of watermelons wearing an oh-so-fitting button-down navy shirt tucked into loose khakis. She whirled around, hiding behind a shelf of French loaves. “It’s him.”

Laini hit her. “You didn’t tell me he could pose for
GQ
.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well, it does!”

Melody pulled Laini’s arm. “Come on, I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

Laini didn’t budge. “Why not? It’s the perfect time to introduce us.”

The way the date had ended left a thorn in Melody’s heart. It had been two days and he hadn’t called. He didn’t need detective skills to find her number from the orchestra personnel list. “I don’t know if he wants to see me after…”

Her sister leaned in, intensity in her eyes. “After what? What happened on the date?”

“Mozart!” Violet waved and all the deli papers flew everywhere like confetti. “Mozart, over here.”

When Wolf turned and saw them, Melody thought she’d die of mortification and collapse on the floor with all the sour grapes. But she wasn’t that lucky. Her heart still beat long enough to see his face turn from surprise into a tight-lipped frown that stole every ounce of her confidence. Something was sour in this supermarket, and it wasn’t just the grapes.

She hated being right.
Nope. He doesn’t want to see me. It’s over.

Wolf’s gaze turned to Violet, and his lips broke into a small smile. He had to come over now, whether he wanted to talk to her or not. No one could ignore Violet’s puppy-dog eyes.

“Mozart, what happened to your hair?” Violet asked as Wolf approached them.

Wolf nodded at Melody. “Hi, Mel.” His eyes moved quickly away from hers to Laini. He extended his hand. “Wolf Braun. A.k.a. Mozart.”

“Laini Thomas. Melody’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you. You have a very talented little girl.”

Laini rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me. She played the deli counter like no tomorrow.”

Wolf scanned all the little slips on the floor. “I’ll say.” He turned to Violet. “My wig is at the cleaners. Even Mozart has to do laundry sometimes.”

Violet giggled like it was the greatest joke in the world. But after her laughter subsided, awkward silence reigned.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to shopping.” Laini turned the cart around. “See you at the concert.”

“Nice meeting you again.” Wolf waved to Laini as she rolled away. Melody turned to join her sister, but Wolf grabbed her arm.

“About the other night…”

Melody’s stomach squeezed until her abs resembled the woman from her home workout video.
Maybe that’s the trick to having a great body—embarrassment.
Melody gulped. “Yeah?”

“I think it’s best we retain a professional relationship for the good of the orchestra and our own careers.”

“You’re right.” His words punched her in her already twisted gut. She felt the floor tilt underneath her. She’d totally ruined the best date she’d ever had with the most charming man she’d ever met. No biggie.

Wolf’s eyes were cold as ice, his face closed like a locked door. “See you at rehearsal?”

Melody struggled to regain an ounce of her composure before breaking down in the produce section and giving the deli men a show. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad I caught you so we could get this settled.”

Melody resisted the urge to whimper.
Settled
sounded so final. “’Bye, Wolf.”

“
Tschüss
.”

Whatever that means.

Melody watched him turn the corner and disappear.

…

Guilt and regret swept through Wolf’s heart as he left Melody in the produce section. Their one kiss still burned hot on his lips. He’d been dreaming about her ever since, and had done everything in his power
not
to press her number into his phone.

Wolf threw a pack of ramen noodles into his grocery cart, trying to convince himself he didn’t need a woman’s cooking to get through the week, or a date to go out to eat. He was very adept at the whole processed-foods thing. Yeah, as long as he cut a few carrots and boiled them with his meal now and then, he was doing just fine. And he could make a mean batch of scrambled eggs.

Had Melody mentioned if she was a good cook?

He blinked, trying not to let the little voice in his heart speak again. Sure, he’d enjoyed spending time with her and opening up, but at what cost?

Making sure he didn’t run into Melody again, he made a beeline for the register. Another gray, curled head bobbed between the magazine racks.

Great, now I’m seeing Ms. Maxhammers everywhere I go.

He turned the corner, and a fashionable silver cane tapped his leg. “Not so fast, maestro.”

“Madame Maxhammer!” Wolf blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.” She’d placed three bananas and ten cans of caviar on the grocery belt.

“Yes, I buy my own groceries like the rest of the population.” She tapped the caviar cans with her elaborately ringed fingers. “Although, I may not buy the same thing as your typical elderly woman.”

Wolf glanced back at the aisles behind him. Hopefully Violet wouldn’t yell out “Mozart” again. “You have very exquisite taste.”

“I’m testing different brands to decide which one to have at our fund-raising auction later this month.”

“Ah yes, the auction.” He’d almost forgotten about it while trying to get donors for the orchestra. If only his problems were which caviar to choose.

The grocery clerk rang her up, putting all of the cans in a double bag. She paid for it with a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change, hon.”

The girl’s eyes widened as Ms. Maxhammer turned to Wolf. “You’re here alone, Mr. Braun?”

He gulped. “Of course.”

“Good. You can help me with my bag.” She tapped the grocery belt.

Behind him, Wolf heard little Violet singing the songs he’d taught to the hospital children. Oh how he wished he could turn around. Instead, he paid for his ramen noodles and picked up her bag. “I’d love to.”

Boy, that was a close call.