Page 70 of A First Sight
I grabbed my phone just before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”
“Are you following me again?”
I wasn’t expecting an accusation. “What? No, of course not. I promised I’d stay away.”
“And you didn’t send me anything?”
I didn’t like the edge in her voice. Something was wrong. “Just the letter I dropped off at Carson’s studio. I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d mind that.”
Had I hurt her more with my apology?
“Nothing since then? Nothing at work?”
“No, lass. I swear it. I would never hurt you on purpose and I know intruding in your life would do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” The words were so low I almost didn’t hear them. “I didn’t really think you were the one who…I just had to ask.”
“Maggie, are you all right?” I sat on the edge of my bed. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, but…is something wrong?”
“I’m okay.” The answer came quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you were keeping your word.”
“I am.” After a beat, I added, “You know you can come to me with anything, right?”
“I know.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed it because I wasn’t sureshebelieved it.
“Thank you.”
She ended the call without another word.
I sighed and put the phone on the bedside table. I supposed Maggie’s response was a good one. Shethankedme.
It was a start.
And I was a patient man.
FIFTY-TWO
MAGGIE
All morning,I thought about the foolish phone call I made last night to Drake. I replayed it in my head, every word, and pause, every inflection.
I believed Drake when he said he wasn’t following me, and I knew he hadn’t sent the flowers. I also believed he would be there for me if I reached out.
I supposed that meant I was working toward forgiving him, but I just wasn’t ready to say it yet.
I knew who sent the flowers.
Except, it made little sense.
Dale was enough of an asshole to do it; that wasn’t in question. But why dead flowers and a creepy note?
Worried I would find another creepy package with everybody watching, I went in earlier than usual to warm up with some practice routines. My new violin was a superb instrument, but it still didn’t feel the same as my old. Many years of playing my mom’s Stradivarius had made it an extension of me. With time, I hoped my new violin would eventually feel the same.
As I walked toward the stage, the only people I saw were the cleaning crew and security guards. I greeted them with nods and smiles, but didn’t linger to talk.
After going through my exercises, I played the beginning of “Overture to Candide,” our opening piece in honor of Leonard Bernstein. Closing my eyes, I let myself feel the music filling the surrounding space until everything else disappeared. Only after the last note faded away did I open my eyes.
