Page 60 of Hope & Harmony

“Do you have representation?” she asks.

I blink. “No, not yet.”

She places a gentle hand on my forearm. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.”

My racing heart thuds. Why would she even ask if I had a manager then?

Not that I was expecting representation at this point in my career. I’m only twenty-four years old. I’m still a baby as far as the opera industry is concerned.

“I see. What did you want to talk to me about then?”

She redirects her gaze toward the stage. “What do you think of Gunnar Healy?”

I swallow. Does she want me to be honest? Because my honest answer would be something along the lines of “He’s got a great voice and his body makes my knees weak, but he’s a first-class jackass.”

I draw in a breath. “He’s…talented. For a rock and roll singer.”

“He is.” Sarah nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But his career hasn’t taken off yet. Why do you think that is?”

I shrug. “I don’t really follow rock and roll, so I couldn’t begin to give you an intelligent answer to that question.”

“I can tell you why,” Sarah says. “He’s talented. There’s no doubt about that. Every audience that hears him falls in love. He sure looks the part. Handsome, rugged, a body that rivals the best athletes in the business. But here’s the truth of it, Blaire.”

She pauses.

“Yes?” I urge.

“I first saw you perform here two weeks ago,” Sarah says.

Okay. I’m not sure what that has to do with Gunnar Healy, but?—

“Your voice is beautiful,” she continues, “and there’s something very special about the way you take the stage.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you considered singing pop?”

This time my jaw does drop. “I’m a classical singer, Ms. Leventhal.”

“Please, call me Sarah.” She smiles. “And I understand that. You sing beautifully. The arias come alive with your interpretations. I’m not a classical music fan, yet I can’t take my eyes off you when you’re on the stage. Just listening to you gives me a new appreciation for the classics.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

She smiles. Sort of. “But let’s be honest, Blaire. You’re not going to make it big as a classical singer.”

My brain stops working for a moment. Did this woman who doesn’t know me from Eve just say something so astronomically rude?

I blink a few times and shake it off. “Why couldn’t I? Classical artists have achieved worldwide acclaim and success. Talent and dedication can transcend any barriers.”

“I won’t argue with you,” Sarah says, “but I will tell you that they are the exception rather than the rule.”

“Isn’t everyone who makes it big an exception? Thousands of talented singers go unnoticed. Not just classical singers. Plenty of people make a decent living in the arts without”—air quotes—“making itbig.”

“You’re not wrong.” She pauses for a second. “But here’s my question to you, Sarah. Do you want to be one ofthem?”

I swallow, licking my lips. “What exactly are you saying to me?”

“I’m going to suggest something that you probably haven’t thought about. Something that has likely never been on your radar.” She widens her eyes. “You’re an incredible talent, but to get to the next level, you need to do something unique.”

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