Page 120 of Perfect Pitch

“I am.”

“I grew up in Tornado Alley myself. It’s one of the things I don’t really miss since moving to New York.”

I laugh. “I haven’t been here a full year to appreciate that part yet.”

“There’s a pleasure about sleeping through the night because no sirens wake you up at all hours.”

“I don’t know about that, David. Despite the quality of my hotel, I heard quite a few sirens on the street last night,” Mama quips to ease the rising tension as we wait for Angie to come back with coffee.

Or the nebulous Carys Burke-Lennan.

His smile is genuine. “Angie mentioned you’re an audiologist?”

A flush rides her cheeks before she admits, “I handed Marco Houde a pair of earplugs at his nightclub the night I went to hear Austyn play and suggested he put them in.”

“Mama, you didn’t,” I groan, wondering what Marco thought at that moment. My head falls forward into my hands.

Ward and David chuckle.

Just then, Angie returns carrying a carafe of coffee, cups, and accoutrements. I miss some banter between Ward and Angie, but I clearly hear him ask, “How much longer is Carrie going to be?”

“She was just...” Then the door opens again. A woman who has fairylike stature strides through the door. The room electrifies by her presence. I realize why when she reaches the head of the table and sets her portfolio down. “Thank you, Angie,” her husky voice rasps. Aqua-colored eyes peruse Mama first. Then they flicker over to me, lingering on my eyes and lips. “Ms. Kensington, Dr. Kensington. I’m Carys Burke-Lennan.”

David interjects before anyone can acknowledge her. “We’ve dispensed with formalities, Carrie.”

She nods but doesn’t retract her words, her eyes remaining locked on my mother’s. Self-composed, my mother acknowledges, “As David said, we’ve dispensed with formalities. It’s Paige and—darling?”

“Austyn. That’s my given name.” Nervous suddenly, though I have no idea why, I tack on, “There’s a story behind it.”

A smile breaks across Carys’s face. She reaches for a file from the stack next to her and flips it open. “I hope I’ll hear you tell the tale after we’re done with what we have to cover today.”

She glances downward momentarily before asking, “So, should we talk about Austyn’s legal representation?”

I whip my head in my mother’s direction. She drawls, “Let’s just cut to the chase, why don’t we? We all know we’re here to discuss her father.”

“So, you’re prepared to discuss Beckett Miller?”

It’s like watching verbal warfare being played like a metronome where the pendulum ticking back and forth is resentment. My mother lifts her briefcase onto the table, unlatches the locks, and counters, “I believe I said I was prepared to discuss her father.”

Carys’s smile turns ferocious. “Excellent.”

The arm swings back and forth. It’s my mother who now has my attention again. My life has crumbled since finding out who my father is, but for twenty years, she’s been piecing hers together from ash. And the pain of that settling next to my heart prompts me to break the stalemate by declaring, “Before we get this discussion started, I have something to say.”

And that’s when my phone vibrates.

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Erzulie broke down on stage last night during her show when she was singing a rendition of Stevie Nicks’s “Landslide.”

—StellaNova

Before I check the text, I heatedly declare, “I’ve dreamed of being a professional musician my entire life. My mother has supported that dream, even letting me cash out my college fund to try to make it a reality. She’s encouraged me, feeding my soul. Knowing what I only recently found out myself, it would have been easier if she had made very different decisions when she found out she was pregnant with me. The moment someone begins talking to her with anything less than respect, this conversation is over in any capacity—personal or professional. Am I understood?” I direct my last comment to Carys.

“Perfectly. You’re awfully brave, Austyn,” Carys remarks.

“No, my mother was. She was seventeen and pregnant. And she didn’t have to decide to have me,” I shoot back.

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