Page 3 of Accepting Love

I know Carolina is twenty-five years old; the few photos of her on the internet are live shots of her performing. Her face is usually down, her expression intent. In the moment.

“The reason I ask,” Audrey continues, “is because Carolina has recently moved into a new home. She purchased it specifically for the amazing music room, which is the focal point in the house, of course.”

“Of course,” I agree. Though I can play the piano and several other instruments, I’m nowhere near as accomplished as someone like Carolina. However, I too would choose a home based on the music room without hesitation.

“The trouble is the room has the most appalling acoustics. It desperately needs renovations. Would you mind coming to the house to make some suggestions?” Audrey stops wandering to look directly at me.

I’m shocked. Stunned speechless. Come to their home?

Ms. Simone continues. “I know it’s an unusual request, but I’m certain you’ll know better than anyone what the room will need. I’ll trust your opinion above anyone’s. If I hire a stranger to come into the home, they will only care about their pocketbooks.”

I stare at her. There is no way I will turn her down, no matter how unusual her request is. There are only a handful of people for whom I would even consider such a request, but Carolina Fraser is one of them.

“I’d be honored.”

Ms. Simone smiles warmly. I feel confident she’s a kind woman who has nothing but Carolina’s best interests at heart. “Thank you. Would tomorrow work? Say ten?”

I nod. “Message me the address, and I’ll be there.”

Ms. Simone steps closer and holds out a hand. “I can’t thank you enough. And your studio is amazing. Carolina will be pleased to record here.”

“I’ll have my manager get in touch with you to set up a schedule.”

Ms. Simone nods as she heads toward the door. She’s a very shrewd businesswoman. Everything about her screams “don’t fuck with my client” from her business suit to her practical black pumps to the bun in her hair. It’s not a tight bun, but a soft loose bun that suggests she’s also capable of letting her hair down.

Today couldn’t have been any weirder if it tried. Tomorrow is going to top it in spades. I wonder if Carolina will be home when I visit her house. I secretly hope so. It’s not necessary of course. Ms. Simone is perfectly capable of managing the renovations. But I’d so like to meet the elusive Carolina Fraser.

Chapter2

Zane

I arrive at the address Ms. Simone sent me at nine-fifty. I don’t want to arrive too early, but I’m a punctual man, and I do like to arrive a few minutes before expected.

The outside of Carolina’s home is lovely. It’s an older home in a quaint neighborhood with mature trees. A trellis is heavily laden with vines that climb up the side of the house and wrap around to the front as if they’ve run out of breathing room and have claimed more than their fair share of the space.

The house is red brick with black shutters and trim. The front porch is inviting with a hanging porch swing and several colorful potted plants. The front door is tall, which is a good indication the entire first story has high ceilings, typical of the year this house was built.

Even before I step onto the porch I can hear the melodious sounds coming from inside. I hope that means Ms. Fraser is playing and I’ll get to meet her. I realize I’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet her when she comes to my studio, but I’d rather meet her ahead of time. One on one would be even better. It will help me get a feel for who she is so I can react accordingly when she arrives at the studio.

I’ve barely finished knocking before the door opens. Ms. Simone greets me with a smile. “Thank you so much for coming.” She takes several steps back to let me in.

Now that I’m inside, I can’t help but feel all the passion and emotion coming from somewhere in the house. My God, this woman is amazing. No wonder she was invited to participate in the collaborative orchestra. Her playing nearly brings me to my knees.

I don’t know enough about classical music to identify what I’m hearing, but it’s something famous. I’ve certainly heard it before.

Ms. Simone lifts her phone in front of her and looks at the screen before glancing at me. “I’m so very sorry. I have to take this call. Please head straight toward the back of the house. Carolina is expecting you. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Ms. Simone rattles all of that off quickly before answering the phone as she rushes toward what appears to be a library to the right of the foyer.

The front door isn’t even closed yet, and I find myself alone with this amazing architecture and the fabulous background music. I ease the door shut as though even the smallest snick might disrupt the ambiance.

Taking Ms. Simone’s advice, I wander deeper into the house. It’s not difficult to follow the music. This piece is long. I may not know much, but I can tell it has not reached its crescendo.

Glancing left and right, I’m awed by every aspect of the home itself. Much of the turn-of-the-century house has been preserved. There have been obvious updates, electricity for example, but the hardwood floors, wainscoting, and floorboards are all original.

Ms. Fraser paid a pretty penny for this. I know she’s an amazing pianist, but even the best of the best don’t make a fortune doing what they love. I’m sure I could count the number of pianists who make high six figures these days on one hand. I would probably know if Ms. Fraser were one of them.

When I reach the source of the music, I find the door standing open. Ms. Fraser’s back is to me. I’m not surprised because the sleek black grand piano is facing the wall of windows that lead out to the gardens.

---