A First Sight Page 5

  “Because the first time I saw her was actually at a restaurant last week.” I closed my eyes, the memory as clear as the event. “Tuscany Grill.”

  Stellan made a pained sound.

  “She was there with her boyfriend, Dale Leighton. He’s a violinist too.”

  “Drake…what…” Uncle Ben couldn’t say the question he wanted to ask.

  I wasn’t proud of the answer, but I confessed anyway. “I got her boyfriend’s name and had a PI do a little digging. He found out that he and his girlfriend, Maggie McCrae, are musicians here, so I decided to see a concert.”

  “Do I want to know how you got his name?” Uncle Ben asked with a sigh.

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “She…” Stellan tore his gaze from the program. “Fuck, Drake, it’s like seeing Belle again.”

  I nodded. “At first, I thought maybe she was a relative I didn’t know about.”

  He shook his head. “No one in the family looks like her. Not that much.”

  “I figured you would have warned me.” I managed a slight smile. “And if I would’ve known you’d be here tonight, I would have warned you.”

  “This was not how I thought this evening would go,” Uncle Ben said as he reached for the opera glasses. A minute later, he let out a low whistle. “It’s uncanny.”

  “Belle couldn’t play an instrument to save her life,” Stellan said. The color returned to his face.

  “No,” I agreed, “she couldn’t.”

  “Have you—have you spoken with her?” Stellan held out his hand for the glasses, and Uncle Ben handed them over.

  I shook my head. “When I first saw her, I was so shocked. I don’t think I could’ve spoken a single word even if she’d started a conversation.”

  “And now?” Uncle Ben asked. He turned his attention from her to me, many emotions written in his eyes.

  “I came last week. I didn’t speak to any of the performers. And now I’m here.”

  Not telling him about the flowers made it a lie of omission. Of a sort, anyway. He asked if I spoke to her. I hadn’t. I hadn’t even been close enough for her to see me. And I didn’t sign my name to the flowers.

  “Do you plan on seeking her out?” Uncle Ben glanced at Stellan. He put down the glasses to join the conversation. “You said she has a boyfriend.”

  “I’m not pursuing her,” I said. “She’s in a relationship. The last thing she needs is a stranger pursuing her. I think that’s called stalking.” Not to mention the age difference.

  “Then what is this?” Stellan asked, gesturing to me and then to the whole place. His expression was unreadable. “Why did you come back?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I enjoy the music, but I like seeing Maggie, too.”

  Uncle Ben put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get lost in something that isn’t real.”

  Stellan’s eyes met mine. “He’s right, Drake. She’s not Belle, and no amount of wishing will change that. No one, no matter how much they look alike, can replace someone we’ve lost.”

  “I know.” I barely refrained from snapping at him. Of course, I knew Maggie wasn’t Belle. “I don’t want to replace Belle. No one can do that.”

  “Good.” My uncle looked relieved. “I just worry about you.”

  “I know, and thank you.” I managed a smile. “But it’s unnecessary. She’s a talented musician and part of a renowned orchestra. That’s all.”

  The look Stellan gave me said he didn’t think I was sincere, but I had no plans to ask her on a date, and I didn’t think she was my dead wife brought back to life.

  Belle and our daughter were gone. Maggie wasn’t my salvation or my hope. She looked like Belle and seeing that resemblance threw me.

  That was all.

  A young woman like her didn’t need an older man like me interfering with her life. My patronage to the arts and appreciation for her skill was all I would offer.

  As I made my decision, a piece of my heart turned traitorous and whispered, but what if…?

  FOURTEEN

  MAGGIE

  “Gilmore.” I smiled at David Geffen Hall’s security guard sitting behind the desk, grateful it was him. He wasn’t the most intimidating guard at around eighty, but he was the most respected. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m well, Miss McCrae.” He beamed at me. “What brings you to see me?”

  “Yesterday, Leyla brought me some flowers. They came without a card or a name,” I said. My heart beat faster. “I know they had to come through security, right?”

  “Of course. We always check gifts that come in.” He frowned. “Was something wrong? Did we miss something?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, not at all. I just have a request.” I gave him a smile I hoped looked more genuine than it felt. “Anything that comes in without a note, anything that isn’t from my family or Dale, please send it back or keep it. Take it home or let one of the others take it.”

  Gilmore looked confused.

  “Are—are you sure, Miss?” Gilmore’s question was uncertain. “Anything that doesn’t come from Mr. Leighton or your family?”

  I nodded.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll do as you ask.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled, genuinely grateful.

  After a few more pleasantries, I left, detouring to the restroom where I stood in the silence, letting go of the control I kept wrapped so tightly around myself.

  My hands shook, and my chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. I gasped, pain shooting through my sides. It was going to be agony to keep it up the rest of the night, even worse to play, but my only other choice was to call in sick.

  And I’d be damned if I was going to give him that satisfaction.

  I gritted my teeth as another wave of pain washed through me. Every step was excruciating, but sitting was worse.

  And not only because of the blows.

  No one deserved what had happened to me.

  FIFTEEN

  DRAKE

  I never promised that I wouldn’t attend future performances. However, I knew both Uncle Ben and Stellan would find my presence the very next night a tad…obsessive. But I wasn’t pursuing her. I didn’t send flowers tonight, after all. And I had no plans to learn more about her either.

  It was simple. I’d already purchased the ticket and didn’t want to waste it.

  As I took my seat, I reached for my glasses. I intended to pay close attention to everything if this would be my last show…for a while.

  I scanned the stage to prove she wasn’t the only reason I was here. Then, I went to her.

  Less than ten seconds later, I was frowning. Something was wrong. Maggie’s entire body seemed stiff. Not the same good posture and powerful movements I saw last time. The hand on the neck of her violin wasn’t quite right either. It took me a moment, but I realized her wrist was resting on it instead of being held at a ninety-degree angle. Her face was drawn, with nearly invisible lines at the corners of her mouth. Skin that was pale yesterday had a slightly grayish tinge to it today. I’d worried about her being sick before, and now I wondered if I was right.

  The more I watched, the more my gut twisted and churned. The more something deep inside me said, something was very wrong with Maggie.

  When I’d told Uncle Ben and Stellan I wouldn’t pursue any sort of connection with her, I had been honest, but this had changed things. If she was in some kind of trouble, I couldn’t just walk away, not if there was anything I could do.

  I wasn’t grabbing at straws to justify my desire to continue watching her. If she were in danger, I’d see it, and help her. If she weren’t, there’d be no harm done.

  I returned my attention to the stage. After the performance, I’d find out what was happening in her life and how to fix it.

  SIXTEEN

  MAGGIE

  Having to constantly smile when I didn’t want to was exhausting.

  “…of course, I told him if he thought I was going to stand for that, he had another thing coming.”

  I didn’t remember which story Dale was telling, but it didn’t matter because they were all essentially the same, and my response was supposed to be the same. Total agreement that expressed itself in nods and smiles. I had a lot of practice.

  “Did he listen?” Dale’s dad gave a sharp look.

  “Well, yeah.” Dale stabbed another piece of meatloaf. “He wouldn’t have done very well if he hadn’t, right? I mean, just because he had a broken leg doesn’t mean he can expect everyone else to move aside, right?”

  And now I remembered all too well what he was talking about.

  “Too soft,” Mr. Leighton said. “The whole damn generation is too soft.”

  “You tell someone how it is, they start crying, and you’re the bad guy,” Dale added.

  “It’s those damn millennials and all their touchy-feeling bullshit,” his dad said. “You should be damn thankful that I raised you right.”

  “At least you know he’ll raise his kids right,” Dale’s mom, Hilda, interjected.

  “There better not be kids,” Mr. Leighton gave me a sharp look as if I would be the only one responsible for a pregnancy.

  “No!” I softened my voice. “No, sir. We haven’t even been talking about kids.”

  I was no longer sure I ever wanted kids with Dale.

  “That’s good,” Hilda said. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but I always thought marriage should come first.”

  Mr. Leighton gave me another sharp look. “As long as he doesn’t marry her just because she says she’s pregnant with his kid. The oldest trick in the book.”

  It didn’t take a psychology degree to figure out where Dale had gotten his “charm” from. Like father, like son. Ho
w could I have been so blind these last years?

  “In fact,” Mr. Leighton said. “You don’t need to be thinking about marriage any time soon. Stay a free agent as long as you can. You don’t have some biological clock ticking. You can have a son anytime.”

  As I continued to listen to the surreal conversation between Dale and his parents, I realized this would be my future as long as I remained with Dale.

  But I could leave him. It would be difficult and scary, but maybe, just maybe, I could do it.

  SEVENTEEN

  DRAKE

  When I told Uncle Ben I was leaving the office to go out for lunch today, he was pleased. However, he would disapprove if he knew where I was going. There were plenty of good places to eat near David Geffen Hall, but that wasn’t the reason I headed to Lincoln Center.

  I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since Friday evening’s performance. I wanted to know if she was okay. So I came here.

  A few minutes later, I saw her come outside. It surprised me to see she was alone. And a little relieved. Something about Dale Leighton rubbed me the wrong way.

  Out of instinct, I followed her. I kept my eyes on her bright hair and moved through the crowd. A few minutes later, she turned into Melissa’s Gourmet.

  I supposed I was going to get lunch after all.

  I moved to stand in line, which put me right behind Maggie. Being this close to her had my heart pounding. I caught the faint scent of strawberries.

  When she stepped up to the counter, I couldn’t tear my attention from her, even for a single moment. She ordered quickly. Maybe she was familiar with this place.

  “Just a minute.” She bent her head as she dug in her purse. “I know I have it. It has to be here. It has to.”

  There was an edge to her voice that had me moving up next to her, concern growing. She sounded like she would cry, and that thought made me sick.

  The clerk shifted uncomfortably. “Ma’am, people are waiting. If you can’t pay…”

  “I should have something here.” She shook her head and wiped at her eye with the back of her hand.

  I knew both Uncle Ben and Stellan would understand what I did next.

  “I’ll pay for the lady’s meal.”

  She turned toward me, damp eyes wide, cheeks flushed. I watched relief turn into pride and knew she was about to argue.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  I stepped next to her and handed the clerk my credit card. “Add a second order of the same for me and put them both on my card.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need you to pay for me. I have my own money.”

  Knowing who her family was, I had absolutely no doubt of that. While the McCrae clan didn’t have a reputation for expecting preferential treatment, everything I ever heard about Patrick McCrae said his family was the most important thing in the world to him. Even if I was wrong about being related to him, she earned enough at her job to pay for lunch.

  I couldn’t tell her any of that, though. She had to think I was merely a stranger who knew nothing more about her than what I had observed.

  “I’m sure you do.” I gave her what I hoped was a warm but not overly familiar smile. “But we can all be forgetful at times.”

  After a moment, she nodded. “All right.”

  “Thank you.”

  She laughed, and the sound made my stomach twist in a good way. “I think I’m supposed to be thanking you.”

  “I’m glad to be of help,” I said honestly.

  “It’s silly, really,” she said, her eyes darting from my face and then back again. “Usually, my boyfriend takes care of things like this because he doesn’t like me carrying money or credit cards. Says it isn’t safe.”

  I wanted to tell her that what wasn’t safe was having nothing she could use to pay for a cab or something else she might need. An emergency card would’ve prevented her from needing a stranger to intervene.

  But I held my tongue.

  It wasn’t my place to say anything. After all, I didn’t know the circumstances or context. Perhaps I was reading too much into it.

  “Here you are,” the clerk interrupted any further conversation.

  As she reached for her bag, her sleeve slid up her arm, and that was when I saw it. Them. Four circular bruises on her forearm, the same space and size that would come from someone grabbing her. Hard.

  “Oh.” Maggie tugged her sleeve down. “I’m perpetually clumsy.”

  Before I could respond, she hurried off.

  “I’ve seen her here with her boyfriend before,” the clerk said, surprising me. “The guy’s an asshole. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if those are from him.”

  My previous excitement at speaking to her, playing the white knight, disappeared under worry and anger. The word of a deli clerk and my suspicions weren’t enough to draw accurate conclusions. However, I could no longer keep my promise to Uncle Ben and Stellan. Until I knew she was safe, I couldn’t stand by and watch. I needed to get involved, learn more about her and her boyfriend. I couldn’t walk away.

  It was time to reach out to Mel’s PI friend again.

  EIGHTEEN

  DRAKE

  I told Mel to have his PI friend drop off his findings at the office on Friday afternoon and then further instructed Mel not to give them to me until the end of the workday. It was now four on Friday afternoon, and I regretted the second decision and called Mel into the office.

  I forced myself to go through the usual end-of-day things with Mel before asking for the manila envelope he was holding. As soon as he left, I closed my office door behind him, anticipation twisting my stomach in knots.

  Settling in my chair, I took a deep breath before opening the envelope and pulling out the two dozen or so sheets of paper.

  Maggie McCrae was indeed the daughter of Patrick and Shannon McCrae, born in Edinburgh. Her mother died when Maggie was barely a year old, and, a couple of years later, Patrick married an American widow with children of her own, one Theresa Carideo. Patrick moved his family to California, beginning in San Jose but ending in San Ramon, where Maggie’s younger half-siblings were born.

  The PI had included a paragraph each for Maggie’s siblings, step-siblings, half-siblings, apparently, two nephews and a niece of Theresa’s who were also brought into the family. I barely skimmed those, noting only the ones who lived here in the city and could help if something was indeed wrong.

  Some of the information in her biography was on the Philharmonic’s website and the concert program. Still, I found a few new bits interesting, such as she also played the piano, cello, guitar, and bagpipes. The last made me smile, but that didn’t last long because the third page was where everything changed.

  Maggie broke her lease almost three years ago, and no other leases showed up with her name. While she could have been anywhere, I suspected she moved in with her boyfriend at that point.

  As I read through the report, everything seemed to have been fine up until this year, but in June, a social media post showed hints of a healing black eye and split lip and later a couple more posts of images showed signs of bruises. The latest happened a few months ago.

  I sank back in my chair and took several deep breaths. It confirmed what I suspected.

  That fucking bastard was abusing her.

  I didn’t know exactly how long I stared at the papers on my desk. The alarm on my phone chimed. I was supposed to have dinner with Uncle Ben and Stellan in thirty minutes. It tempted me to call and cancel, but I knew I’d go out looking for Dale Leighton if I did that.

  I wanted to beat that coward senseless.

  No, it was best to go somewhere people could talk me out of doing anything stupid.

  I was fuming, and traffic did nothing to help my temper as I made my way across the city. By the time Stellan let me inside, my anger was closer to the surface than it had been in a long time. It must have shown on my face because the moment Stellan saw me, his eyes went wide.

  “Let me get you a drink,” he said as he shut the door. “I’ll get out the good stuff. Ben is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner.”