A First Sight Page 2

  “Brody McCrae, son of Patrick McCrae, started Shannon’s.”

  My eyebrows shot up. There was a name I knew.

  “McCrae International Research Institute?”

  “The very same,” he confirmed. “His eldest, Alec, has taken over MIRI, but it seems one of his other sons, Brody, has pursued a career in distilling quality liquor.”

  “Do either of you know the McCraes?” Uncle Ben’s partner, Stellan Brockmire, said as he joined us. “Or is it one of those Scottish families everyone knows?”

  “A bit of both,” I said. “My sister, Darlene, lived in Edinburgh with her first husband when she was in her early twenties. And according to her, they met Patrick McCrae and became great friends.”

  “But you don’t believe that?” Stellan asked.

  “Let’s just say Darlene tends to…embellish things,” I said dryly. “I love my sister, but anything she says needs to be taken with a grain of salt.”

  Stellan grinned, dimples deepening on either side of his mouth. “I’ve met a few people like that. Knowing who to believe is the secret to my success.”

  Uncle Ben laughed and put his arm around Stellan’s shoulders. “And here I thought it was because you were simply a phenomenal lawyer.”

  “It helps.”

  I smiled as the two of them teased and joked with each other. Uncle Ben didn’t come out until he was fifty, and even though he met Stellan not too long after that, it took them years to move from friendship to romance.

  “So, any plans for the new year?” Uncle Ben’s words cut through the joy. “Resolutions? Perhaps ones that involve working less and getting out more? Meeting new people?”

  I tried not to scowl. I knew exactly what Uncle Ben meant by ‘meeting new people.’

  “There’s a wonderful young woman who just moved into the building,” he continued. “She’s lovely.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice tight. “But I’m not interested.”

  He looked at Stellan and then back at me. “It’s been fifteen years.”

  “Almost sixteen,” Stellan corrected. “In a few days, it’ll be sixteen years since the accident. Belle would want you to be happy,” Stellan said to me, his usually cheerful expression serious. “She’d want you to find love again.”

  I shook my head and drained the rest of the whiskey. “That’s not in the cards for me.”

  I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself or being pessimistic. It was simply the truth. I had fallen in love with Belle Brockmire almost from the moment I laid eyes on her, and though the grief had tempered with time, I simply didn’t have it in me to love anyone else like that again. I had friends and family who I loved dearly, and that was enough.

  It had to be.

  FOUR

  MAGGIE

  I shivered as Dale and I made our way from our parking spot to David Geffen Hall where today’s rehearsal was taking place. We ended up having to walk several blocks in the sort of sleety, slushy weather that made me not want to get out of bed in the first place.

  My fingers around the handle of my violin case felt frozen, and the ones on the handle of my umbrella weren’t much better. I wore gloves, but the wind was wicked. It didn’t help that Dale kept bumping against me, sending me half out into the rain while he tried to keep himself dry under my umbrella. He hadn’t bothered bringing his own.

  When we entered the building, the rush of warm air felt like a blazing fire against my near-frozen skin. Dale made his way to the rehearsal space as I struggled to close the umbrella. I rolled my eyes and winced as I uncurled my stiff fingers and fumbled with the catch on the umbrella handle.

  “This weather is just awful.”

  I looked up to see Chelsey Tyler, the first chair cellist, scowling as she stamped her boots on the rug. Not a single light brown hair was out of place, and I wondered how well my hair had held up out there.

  “Oh, hi, Maggie.” Chelsey smiled, but it had all the warmth of the weather outside. “Did you have to walk?”

  “Just a bit.” I finally got the umbrella closed and tapped it on the rug to get the last of the water off. “You?”

  “I usually take the subway, but I splurged for a cab today,” she said. Her gaze ran over me. “Glad I did.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered as I shrugged out of my coat while Chelsey walked away. I was glad she didn’t wait for me. I could only handle so much of her.

  As the assistant concertmaster and second-chair violin, I got along with almost everyone in the orchestra, but I couldn’t say I was close to any of them.

  Except for Dale, of course. He was my boyfriend, so I was close to him.

  I flexed my fingers as I walked into the rehearsal space, curling and uncurling them while I looked for the dark curls of Irene Sheppard—the concertmaster and first chair violinist.

  She was standing next to our principal conductor, Nehemiah Plight, so I walked over to them.

  Irene turned to me. “We need these changes made to the sheet music and copies distributed,” she said. “Would you?”

  “Of course.” As I took the papers, I looked over the music first. If anyone asked questions when they received the pages, I needed to explain the changes.

  As I started toward the exit, I caught sight of Dale out of the corner of my eye. I smiled and waved, but he seemed engrossed in a conversation with Chelsey. The way she leaned into him made my smile falter, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t let personal annoyances interfere with my job.

  Still, I kept seeing it in my mind’s eye, the way her blue eyes were wide and focused on him. I heard that she and her husband separated last year. I wasn’t sure if they officially divorced yet. Either way, she knew Dale and I were more than dating. We lived together. She was treading the line of what was appropriate.

  When I finished with the copies, I headed back into the room and began distributing papers.

  “What’s this?” Dale asked as I reached him.

  “Changes to the score from Irene,” I said.

  “She’s really putting you to work,” Dale said. “Handing out papers. Are you getting her coffee next?”

  Some of the other string players overheard and exchanged uncomfortable looks, but Chelsey smirked. A flare of anger burned for a moment before disappearing. Nothing good would come out of responding. I knew why Dale said it. He wasn’t happy when I became assistant concertmaster over him.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” I gave everyone a polite smile, but didn’t look at Dale’s face.

  As I moved away, he said something too quiet for me to hear, but the laughter that followed was plenty loud. Heat flooded my face, and I walked faster. I didn’t know if they were talking about me, but it was likely. And I doubted he said anything nice.

  When I finished handing out the new sheet music, I glanced over at Dale brushing hair from Chelsey’s face. I wasn’t jealous when he flirted with other women, so he shouldn’t be jealous of me for getting something I had worked hard for.

  I pushed my thoughts aside and picked up my bow and rosin. Rehearsal wasn’t the time or place for introspection. As I played a few notes, I realized no matter what happened in my future, I always had my biological mother’s Stradivarius. I never knew her, but it was the one thing I had that connected us from the beyond.

  FIVE

  DRAKE

  A knock on the office door made me look up from my computer screen. Uncle Ben stood in the doorway, and I waved him in. He had stayed home sick the last two days and still didn’t look entirely up to par, but it didn’t surprise me he was back. While he was planning to retire later this year, he would continue to be involved as much as possible until the end.

  “I hear everything went smoothly while I was out,” he said as he took the seat across from me.

  “I doubt you’d be leaving me your company if I wasn’t capable of handling things without you,” I said with a hint of a smile.

  “That’s exactly what Stellan reminded me of when I wanted to call and check in.” Uncle Ben c
huckled. “You’re both right. It’s just not in the Mac Gilleain family’s nature to ‘take it easy.’”

  “What can I say? I’m a work-hound.” I glanced at the time. “You’re here early. I thought we were meeting for lunch to discuss questions about the Gold call.”

  “Yes, that’s still on the calendar,” he said. “But I’m here to ask a favor.”

  I hid my surprise. This was out of context for Uncle Ben.

  “What can I do?”

  “It’s Homer Kensit. I have some papers regarding his account that need to be signed today.” Uncle Ben looked slightly embarrassed. “I forgot about them until about an hour ago. I could send a courier, but Homer is an old friend.”

  “With me taking over the company, you want Homer to know he’ll continue to receive the same personal attention,” I finished Uncle Ben’s thought.

  He nodded. “I would go myself, but Stellan made me promise to take it easy today.”

  “Got you. I can take him the papers and then pick up lunch on my way back,” I said. “Homer is the head of marketing for the Philharmonic, if I remember correctly?”

  “He is.” Uncle Ben coughed. It wasn’t a bad sound, but he needed to rest. “Anyway, Homer is at David Geffen Hall.”

  After a short briefing, it was time for me to be off.

  I used the company car and driver to avoid walking from the parking lot in the miserable weather.

  Once inside the building, it took me a moment to get my bearings. It had been years since I’d last been here, and I usually came in the VIP entrance because of my patronage. Before I made a complete pass around the vast lobby, a lean young man came toward me in a neatly pressed uniform.

  “Good morning.” He smiled widely. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Homer Kensit. I’m Drake Mac Gilleain, and I have some business with him.”

  “Of course. If you just give me a moment, I’ll see if I can locate Mr. Kensit. Take a seat if you’d like.” The young man gestured to one side with chairs.

  A few minutes later, Homer appeared. His ebony-colored hair had more gray in it than the last time I’d seen him, but other than that, he hadn’t changed. When he smiled, his teeth flashed white against his dark skin.

  “Drake, good to see you.” He held out a hand.

  “You, too.” We shook, and I took a manila envelope from inside my jacket. “Uncle Ben sent me with some papers for you to sign.”

  "He usually shows up himself," Homer said with concern on his face. “Is everything all right?”

  “He’s been under the weather the past few days.” I liked that he cared about Uncle Ben. “And with him retiring this year, he thought it’d be a wonderful opportunity for us to connect.”

  “Hope he feels better soon, but sounds good. Let’s get somewhere more comfortable.” Homer gestured toward the way he came. “Shall we?”

  I followed him through the lobby to a corridor. We stopped at the door with his name. His office was neat, organized, and quite similar to mine. After we settled on either side of the desk, I pushed the envelope across the desk to him.

  “I’ll let you read through them, and if you have questions, just ask.” I folded my arms and waited, letting my attention wander around the room.

  The bookshelves mainly held volumes about music or musicians, but there were a couple of surprises in there, classics like Anna Karenina and Silas Marner. The walls had a few pictures of various orchestras.

  “Everything looks good,” Homer said finally. He picked up a pen, signed at each marked place, and then returned the papers.

  I quickly checked them over to ensure he had missed nothing and then returned them to the envelope.

  “Ben’s always done a fine job with my accounts,” Homer said. “I’m confident that you will do the same.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a smile as I got up.

  “Are you in a hurry? You haven’t seen the changes we’ve made.” Homer stood. “If you have time, I’d love to show you around a bit?”

  I looked at my watch. This hadn’t taken as long as I thought. My lunch order wouldn’t be ready for another hour. Even with traffic, I’d be early. “I’d like that.”

  As Homer led me back down the corridor, he talked about the Philharmonics.

  I listened and nodded, appreciating the history and knowledge, but I found my mind drifting a bit. Then something caught my attention, and my brain registered it.

  “Music.”

  “Ah, yes.” Homer stopped. “The orchestra is rehearsing today.”

  We listened as the instruments faded until only one was left. A violin.

  “I believe that’s our second chair violinist and assistant concertmaster,” he said after a few minutes. “She’s quite talented.”

  “She sounds like it,” I agreed. I was tempted to stay longer, but it was time to pick up lunch.

  As I excused myself, I decided to come back as soon as I could find space in my schedule. If a single violinist sounded that good in rehersal, I could only imagine how magnificent the entire orchestra would sound. It was something to look forward to.

  SIX

  MAGGIE

  I set my bow in its place and closed the lid to my case. Rehearsal had been strenuous today, and I was exhausted. We spent the last two weeks trying to get through the changes Irene had made, and it had everyone on edge as our opening performance drew closer. Nehemiah and Irene were more annoyed than I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t blame them. The changes were simple, but we just couldn’t seem to get them right.

  “I don’t see why we had to change it in the first place,” Dale complained behind me. “The changes were completely unnecessary.”

  I liked them. I felt they tied the pieces together much better than they had been before. Not that I’d tell Dale that.

  “Are you ready?” Dale was suddenly at my side. “I’m starving.”

  “I’m ready,” I said, flashing him a smile. “Do you want to pick up something?”

  “We’re going out to eat.” He put his arm around my waist and patted my hip. “Tuscany Grill in Brooklyn.”

  I forced a smile. It was Dale’s favorite restaurant, and usually, I didn’t mind, but all I wanted to do was to get something quick, take a bath, and go to bed.

  “Come on.” He squeezed my hip before letting go. “Let’s go home and change, then go eat.”

  I stifled a sigh.

  By the time we made it to the restaurant, my stomach was growling, and I had a bad feeling we would have a long night. Dale insisted I wear a dress rather than slacks and a sweater, which made me think he had plans for us after dinner. I hoped he didn’t want to be out too late.

  “Yes, that table will be perfect.” Dale gave the hostess a charming smile and held out a folded bill, neatly tucked between his first two fingers.

  She let her fingers linger on him, her eyes flickering to me for only a moment before dismissing me.

  I hated when women gave me that look. I wasn’t an idiot. When a woman dismissed me like that, it wasn’t because she didn’t think I was pretty enough for Dale. It was because she didn’t see someone who could be a threat to anything she wanted.

  Dale put his hand on the small of my back, and I lifted my chin. It didn’t matter how she saw me. When Dale and I left here, we’d go back to our home. Our bed. My life wasn’t dependent on the opinions of a woman who judged me with a single look.

  After we settled and ordered our drinks, I turned my attention to the menu.

  “Order something light,” Dale said. “We’re going to a club next, and you won’t want something heavy on your stomach.”

  I pressed my lips together and swallowed a complaint. Going out to dinner and then dancing was a nice date night, and it had been a while since we’d had one. Sure, it would’ve been nicer if it hadn’t been in the middle of the week or if he’d asked me first, but it was still a date.

  When the waiter came back, I ignored my stomach’s protests and ordered the Chicken
Tuscany with no sides. I wanted a pasta side and all the extras, but I already knew I was pushing it with my entrée order rather than a salad.

  “No wine for her,” Dale told the waiter. “Just water.”

  The two of us drank very little, but we rarely declined when wine came with the meal. I didn’t argue, though. It wasn’t worth it for a glass of white wine that I didn’t care about.

  “Very well, sir.” The waiter took our menus and disappeared.

  “A salad isn't good enough?” Dale asked, his tone casual. “Does that mean it’s a good thing I canceled your wine?”

  It took me a moment before I realized what he asked, and color flooded my cheeks. “No!” I immediately softened my voice. “No, of course not. It’s been a long day, and I need some protein, especially since we’re going to a club.”

  “Oh. Good.” He reached across the table and took my hand, squeezing it. “For a minute, I was worried that you were pregnant and hiding it from me.”

  I shook my head, desperately trying not to reveal how, a little over a month ago, I had thought exactly that. “No, I’m not. And I wouldn’t hide it if I was.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He let go of my hand and leaned back in his chair. “We don’t need that headache. Our life is perfect just the way it is.”

  I smiled and nodded, taking a long drink of water to avoid having to respond. I didn’t think of children as a headache, and someday, we would have kids, but there were other things we both wanted before we started making room for a child. Besides, I wanted to be married before I wanted children, engaged at the very least. And Dale hadn’t said or done anything that even hinted he was thinking along those lines yet.

  The waiter returned with our food, and we ate in silence for a few minutes before Dale turned to me. “My parents want us to come to dinner on the second.”