Page 13 of All The Wrong Notes

What did this house not have?

The local roads were quiet enough for the ride to be enjoyable, and they were able to bike to an outlook on a little peninsula that provided fabulous views of the water and the tapestry of trees on the surrounding hillsides. Elise pulled out her camera and took several photographs, and then, on a whim, asked Janet and Carlos to pose for some shots against the beautiful background. She was no expert photographer, but she enjoyed the hobby and sometimes produced some rather nice shots.

When they came back to the cottage in the mid-afternoon, Will was waiting. He and Carlos had planned to watch a baseball game, and he had a suitable spread of munchies ready.

“I’ve almost finished my work for the weekend,” he explained. “London has what they absolutely need for tomorrow morning, and I’ll finish up the last few bits on my end after breakfast. But I’m free for the rest of the day, so let’s watch the game!”

Huh! Baseball. Not cricket or lacrosse or gold-plated china passing, but plain old North American baseball. The preconceived notions were tumbling like a pile of children’s building blocks. Although not a huge aficionado of the sport, Elise enjoyed sitting around listening to the others yell at the screen, nibbling on the endless supply of snacks, and just being there.

After the game, Will suggested heading to the hot tub. The night was cool but clear, and it was worth the couple of feet of chilly air to slip into the warm bubbling water. Elise and Janet got there first and were already immersed to their necks when Carlos came along, followed by Will.

Oh, holy… Elise’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. This man belonged on the front of a sleazy romance novel, all long limbs and toned muscles. Not body-builder muscles—he was too slim of build for that—but well defined and well-tended for a man who worked behind a desk all day. He must take a bit of time in the gym. He was certainly easy to look at, and he did most inappropriate things to Elise’s equanimity. Among other things.

She was almost relieved when he climbed into the tub and was quickly concealed by the frothing water. At least now she wouldn’t be caught staring. But how on earth could one relax knowing THAT was just an arm’s length away? The water grew warmer around her.

By Monday morning, Elise was ready for a bit of quiet time. She also suspected Janet and Carlos wanted to be alone as well, and so after breakfast and a short walk, she sent them along in the car to find a craft fair Janet had read about. Elise would be very happy reading by the dock, or maybe baking something for dinner.

It was Thanksgiving today, and while she didn’t know exactly what Will had planned, she had asked if she could make something, to which he agreed with a wide smile. “There are never too many desserts!” She’d scanned the pantry after breakfast and knew he had everything she needed for her special coconut-condensed milk cookie bars. Will would be toiling away all day again, and the kitchen was hers to enjoy, if she wished to stretch her own culinary muscles.

Elise entered the house through the lower covered patio doors by her room and wandered up the stairs towards the main part of the house.

Funny! There was music playing. More jazz, solo piano this time. Someone must have turned on the sound system. Had it been on all night, and they just hadn’t heard it over the game? No, that couldn’t be. There hadn’t been any music playing at breakfast. Will’s office door was closed, so he must still be working away. The man might be rolling in it, but he did work for his money. She had to give him that. She began to hum along with the music. Gershwin. Ah, she loved this song.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind,” she sang, more a hum than anything. “Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find.”

Her voice grew louder as she made her way through the familiar lyrics, until she was in full voice. Wow, what fabulous acoustics this place had, with those high ceilings and stone walls.

“So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had…”

Elise followed the sound of the music to a doorway near the fireplace. She thought it was just to the outside before, but since it was cracked open, she poked her head through as she finished the line, “in mind—”

And she stopped dead.

It wasn’t the sound system after all. Instead of finding a compact stereo system and set of Bluetooth speakers, there was Will Pemberton himself, playing the music on an electronic keyboard, and doing so very, very well, indeed.

CHAPTER 6

BEAUTIFUL MUSIC

Will’s head snapped up as the door creaked open, and his eyes went wide. He had hardly heard her before, thinking it was just his imagination supplying the voice and the words. When he played, he got lost in the music sometimes. His fingers fumbled on the keys, but this was too good to let die. He kept playing and tried to meet her eyes.

“Don’t stop.” He could see her start to retreat from his lair, the surprise on her face turning into embarrassment. “Keep singing. Please.”

Elise gaped at him for a moment before taking a tentative step inside. He hoped he was smiling. It was hard to focus on your face when your fingers were taking up half your brain and your… heart was taking up the other half.

“It’s one of my favourites,” she whispered, and walked further into the room, stopping just a few feet short of the keyboard he had set up on its stand. He played a bit more, another vamp leading to the introduction of the song, and she met his smile, then opened her mouth to sing.

He wasn’t wrong. It was wonderful. Her voice was perfect for this music, the jazz of the 1920s and ‘30s. Deep and rich, smoke and whisky, smooth like velvet, with that same warmth and glimmer of light that stopped it from becoming too dark.

Elise was beautiful and witty, yes, but damn it all, she could sing!

Will knew this song well enough that he could watch her, watch her eyes, watch her breathing, to let the melody swell and roll. He caught her eye, gestured with his head, and she nodded. Return to the beginning of the section, repeat it with more emotion. A ritardando here, rubato there, fermata on the high note, then let it all tumble to the coda. She caught his meaning exactly, and then communicated hers just as well, so the song blossomed to life almost as if they had rehearsed it.

“That was wonderful,” he breathed when at last, the final notes faded into the ether.

“Wow,” was all she said.

They stared at each other for a minute, a sort of communion building between them.

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