Page 111 of Perfect Pitch

“But knowing the story of the piano, the pieces I’ve put together in my head over the years, he had no guts if he left you, Mama.”

She touches a stack of neatly piled letters. “Over the first few months of my pregnancy, Gramps’s attorneys tried repeatedly to contact your father. They used an investigations firm to locate him. The Millers claimed he didn’t want to be found. Later, it became abundantly clear why.”

“Can you explain it to me?”

“I will. Do you remember the fire that hit the trailer park when you were very young?”

“Vaguely. Why?”

“Your biological grandparents were in it. They died.” I gasp. Her voice is like ice when she explains, “But at least Gramps was able to stop making payments to keep their silence about who your father was.”

“Excuse me? He was paying them?”

“Yes. By then, your father had started to become ‘someone,’ and they were threatening to go to the media. I refused to let your childhood be marred with that kind of scandal. I told Gramps I’d leave. I’d take you and leave if that’s what it took. He caved and gave in to their demands.”

“The fire...” I ask hesitantly.

“Was a gas explosion. A freak accident. Ruled that way by an outside arson expert. Gramps knew this would eventually all come out, so the fire chief called in two experts to rule on it.” She moves her hand from the letters to a closed manilla file. “Do you want to read about it?”

“No! But, Mama, didn’t he come home when his parents died?”

“He didn’t. I expected to have to deal with your father then, but he never showed up. At least not that I was able to ascertain.” Her hand moves to the last stack.

I can tell they’re photos just by the paper they’re printed on.

“Before I show you these, before you react to the man who is your father, I want you to understand down to the depth of your soul what your life would have been like if you knew who he was before you were the woman of character standing before me. Even though I resented every dime he paid his family, Gramps did it to protect us. He didn’t do it for the Kensington name, he did it so people assumed I had a wild weekend fling. He did it so people would never associate the gossip rags with my daughter. So you would never be heckled by mean little shits.”

She lifts her hand from the photos.

“Gramps had you followed?”

Her laugh only holds a slight resentment toward my interfering grandfather. “He browbeat me for the name of the baby’s father, but he already knew. He wanted me to admit to it, to my failing.”

“Falling in love isn’t failing at anything.”

“Then let’s just say he wanted to know why I went from being a snotty teenager to being one with a dreamy smile on her face.”

Cautiously, I lift the pile. And I suck in air so fast so I don’t faint. My mother is as still as a statue as I take in the enormity of the secret being revealed as I flip through the 8x10 glossies.

I’m going to be sick.

Because my mother’s past has just collided with a large part of my future.

* * *

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

DJ Kensington isn’t quite as unknown as the music industry thought she was. She has an enormous following on Spotify and a TikTok following many would die for—likely due to her time playing at the University of Texas, Austin.

This nineteen-year-old sensation is just climbing the ladder.

We hope she knows how to hold on.

—StellaNova

It’s just after sunrise and I’m releasing my pain the only way I know how. It doesn’t matter that part of me wishes I could find another means to do so because it’s through him I have this talent. But it’s the only pressure valve I have. Accepting it as the only gift I’ll take from the worthless bastard who left us, I rock forward as I press the pedals and race my fingers up and down the ivory keys of the baby grand I found in the second-floor ballroom.

But as the shadows of my conversation with my mother try to attack me, I ward them off by not thinking.

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