Page 19 of All The Wrong Notes

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

* * *

True to his word, Will had mentioned the arts centre to his sister, and on one bright Monday morning, she phoned and asked if she could come in to chat. She arrived the next day, as arranged, and from her first knock at the door, Elise had taken to her.

Gwen Pemberton was tall and very slim, with masses of hair dyed in a rainbow of colours, and huge chunky glasses that obscured much of her face. Whether she was pretty or plain beneath the glasses and bright lipstick, Elise couldn’t tell, but it was clear Gwen was nothing like her restrained and very proper brother. She was exuberant and emotive, and all bright colours and flowing fabrics, boho-chic at its most ostentatious. She was wonderful.

“I’m an artist,” she announced without preamble, “and my brother said you like volunteers. I’m absolute crap with business stuff, but what else can I do?”

They talked for half an hour about the centre and its various programs, with Gwen asking some excellent questions along the way, and then Elise gave her a tour of the facility.

“We were so fortunate when we started this place,” Elise explained as they walked towards the large rehearsal room at the end of the hallway. “A wealthy arts lover gave us this fabulous piece of land, and he helped us raise the funds for the building. We converted an old warehouse into this set of studios and practice spaces, so it’s not very pretty on the outside, but the inside is fabulous.”

“It’s amazing,” Gwen agreed. “Those kids don’t know how lucky they are to have your programs.”

“No, I think they do,” Elise returned. “They’re an amazing group, and I’m honoured to be able to work with them. Now,” opening the door to a stairway, “this is where the art studio is.”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor, where a huge room overlooked the parking lot from a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. Sinks lined one wall, and a profusion of tables and easels filled the space. Gwen spun around in joy, a whirlwind of bright skirts and scarves.

“Let me work here, please!” she begged. “I can teach, or help, or even wash the paint brushes. Or… I have an idea!”

“Do tell!”

“A mural! This building is wonderful inside, but the outside, as you said, is still industrial blah. Let me paint it. A huge mural that covers the entire side of the building, just like you see on the wall of the highway at Wilson Avenue and Bathurst Street, or like on so many buildings where they’ve painted some trompe l’oeil facade. I can design it, and in the spring when it’s warm enough, I can take a group of kids in the visual art program and they can help do the painting. What do you say? Please! I’m thinking a garden scene, with huge flowers and plants, like we’re Alice in Wonderland when she’s shrunk down to her tiniest. It will be glorious in summer, and in winter, when everything is so blah and grey, it will brighten up the whole streetscape. Can I?”

With such enthusiasm, it was all but impossible to say no.

“I’ll have to take it to the board of directors, but…”

“I’ll supply all the paint as well. It will be a donation-in-kind. Oh, I’m so excited!”

And the deed, for all intents and purposes, was done. Elise grinned for the rest of the day.

CHAPTER 8

PERFORMANCES

October’s glory faded into early November. The choir’s first concert, during the two weeks that Will was away in Europe, had gone well, and the group was preparing for their two Christmas programs, the one of seasonal songs and carols, and the big performance of ‘Messiah’ with full orchestra. They were doing ‘Messiah’ in a nearby town one night and then repeating the concert in the city the following evening, shortly before Christmas. Will had examined his calendar and had rearranged a business trip in order to be in town for that final show of the year.

He and Elise were also practising for their own series of afternoon concerts at the seniors’ residences and hospitals. The second rehearsal had gone much like the first, with some serious music-making followed by a light dinner and some pleasant conversation before Will drove her home. He had been everything attentive, polite, and charming, and from the way his eyes devoured her, Elise thought he might have romantic intentions as well, but he had also been everything a Victorian gentleman should be, and had done nothing that would upset a chaperone. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and said goodbye with a kiss to the back of the hand, but no matter that everything about him shouted his interest, he had said and done nothing to forward those interests.

Elise began to wonder if she had misread him, or if she wasn’t to his tastes after all.

This was something to talk to Janet about! What are best friends for, after all? She didn’t even wait for their usual post-choir chat session, but called her on a regular Tuesday and dragged her out for coffee right after work.

“I don’t know what to make of him,” Elise sighed. She had told her part of the story and was on to her second chai latte by now, as Janet made little clucking sounds over her coffee.

“From what I’ve seen,” Janet said at last, “he’s got a thing for you. When we were at the cottage, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Carlos said he’s never seen Will behave like that before. But he hasn’t made any moves?”

“None. He’s a perfect gentleman, which is lovely, except sometimes that’s a bit, well, not so flattering. I mean, I don’t want someone who doesn’t understand the word ‘No’, but he hasn’t even asked the question, if you know what I mean.”

Janet nodded.

“I have to ask,” Elise lowered her voice, “he’s not gay, is he? I’d be perfectly happy to have him just as a friend if he is, but I’d like to adjust my expectations sooner rather than later.”

“Drink up, girlfriend.” Janet pointed her chin at the rest of Elise’s latte. “I’ll see what I can get out of Carlos tonight. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Elise reached out for Janet’s hands. “Thanks! You’re a gem.”

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