Page 21 of All The Wrong Notes

“Are you okay?” Her blink set those gorgeous lashes fluttering down towards her cheek, and then back up, revealing her deep brown eyes, so expressive and warm, looking directly at him.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Pre-concert nerves,” he equivocated.

Elise grabbed his hand, which he hoped wasn’t clammy and wet. “We’ll be fabulous. You, at least, always are. Now, where should I stand?”

He wrestled his thoughts back to where they ought to be, and managed to say a few coherent sentences, until they were comfortable with the set up. He could see her well, and with only a slight turn of her head, she could see him as well, something vital for performance.

Will warmed up with scales for a few minutes and some passages from the songs, while Elise did her vocal exercises in preparation for the show. They spent a moment playing with the settings on the mic and amplifier that Elise was using, until they were happy with the sound balance. Before long, the residents of the establishment started to drift into the space, some in wheelchairs, others very steadily on their feet, all with smiles on their faces. And then the music began.

This was where Will could lose himself. While he was playing, nothing else mattered. There were no meetings, no negotiations, no project planning, no deals to contract. There were only the piano keys, the black and white stairs that let his fingers take him to another world, the notes that were a language far beyond any words, and now, her. Her luscious voice, smoky and rich, joined his own melody, bringing new depths to the music and sending a shiver through him, rousing feelings that were entirely out of place here, but which he could not deny.

Every note he played was a love song for her. If only she could understand him.

All too soon their performance ended. The room resonated with applause and calls of ‘Bravo’, but threaded through the exultation that always came after a concert was a sense of loss. With the fading of that final note, a part of his soul went with it. But they would do this again! The music wasn’t gone; it was only being paused. Tomorrow, they would meet again, and their hearts would intertwine once more as they lost themselves in song.

Elise stepped towards him and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet, and dragging him forward a couple of steps to bow and acknowledge the audience. The smile she gave him was radiant, and this time when she craned up on her toes to press a kiss onto his cheek, she didn’t stop that millimetre shy. There was probably lipstick on his face now, and he didn’t think he would ever wash his cheek again.

* * *

In all the years Elise had been singing, either alone or with various choirs, she had never enjoyed a set of performances as much as these concerts she was doing with Will. The music, this early- to mid-century jazz, was what she loved, and each song they had chosen was one she adored. And no matter what her feelings were towards him, he was a wonderful musician. They had the same thoughts about the music, the same notions of how best to bring it to life, and in those cases where they did differ, their discussions led to something even better than what either had suggested before.

But, really, it was Will himself who made the performances so magical. His smile when she entered the room, the glances between songs, the light in his eyes as they took their bows, these all brought music to her heart. There was such depth to him, how could he not have shared that with lovers in the past? How could he possibly have hidden from Carlos, his best friend, what seemed so evident to her?

The air seemed different when he was near her, richer and touched with a scent that went beyond the senses. Elise saw his handsome face everywhere, the twitch of his lips when he tried not to smile, the humour in his storm-grey eyes. She tried to recall how he had looked when they first met, so cold and forbidding, but her mind refused to offer up that image. He was shy and uncomfortable in company, but even his initial rudeness now appeared to her as only a marked awkwardness, a complete lack of confidence in himself, as strange as that seemed.

Was it only her perception of him that had altered, or was the man himself somehow changed?

Today was the last performance of this series of concerts. Today they would take their final bows, and to commemorate the occasion, Elise had invited Will to her place afterwards for a celebratory meal. There was wine in the fridge, a casserole ready to be baked, and a tray of spiced shortbread and espresso brownies for afterwards. She didn’t exactly plan to get him drunk, but she hoped a glass or two of something would help to break down the wall of exquisite politeness that he seemed to have erected to keep her out… or hopefully, keep his feelings in. He was a study of passion and inhibition, and if Elise had anything to do with it, assuming of course that the gentleman was willing, she hoped to leave that restraint far, far behind.

Now, all she could do was hope and pray that her efforts would be rewarded, and that she wasn’t about to destroy one of the best friendships she had ever found.

CHAPTER 9

THE FIRST MOVE

Experience had taught Elise that there are, in general, two approaches to a problem. One can tease gently at its edges in the hopes a solution might slink out, or one can take a deep breath and confront it, head-on.

Several weeks at poking tentatively at the edges of Will’s reserve had led nowhere, and so tonight, she decided to take the second approach.

They had started with a celebratory drink while the casserole was in the oven, and had nibbled at the cheese tray Elise had waiting in the fridge. Will was, as he had been of late, the perfect gentleman, suggesting so much with his heated looks but doing nothing about it. Could it really be that the poor guy was terrified? The whisky he sipped might help to loosen him up a touch.

They talked about the concerts, their favourite songs, which had gone over the best, and which other ones they would like to try in the future. All enjoyable, interesting, and quite impersonal topics. As they started the meal, they talked about art galleries and favourite books, and whether Shakespeare really had written the plays attributed to him, and Will asked more questions about the Queen City Arts Centre’s upcoming fundraiser. All wonderful things to discuss. But not what Elise had in mind.

“Do you dance, Will?” she asked as she put the last dishes into the dishwasher. They had not had dessert. She had plans for that.

“Dance?” He cocked his head and looked at her like he didn’t quite understand the word.

“When you move your body in specific patterns to the rhythm of music.” The man just cried out to be teased.

“I know what dancing is. The question just came out of the blue.”

“So, do you?” She filled the kettle and put the water on to boil, but didn’t reach for the coffee cups.

“I learned a few steps. I avoid it, if at all possible.” He looked decidedly awkward right now. “I’m, er, not very coordinated.”

“I can hardly believe that. You move so confidently, and you’re so musical, I’d think dancing would come naturally.”

“It’s the social aspect that trips me up.” He glanced away.