Playing the Maestro (5 page)

Boy did she look cute in those pajamas.

Alda had been sweet at first, too. She’d drawn him in, wrapping him around her long-nailed finger until he didn’t even see her using his checks and credit cards.

He’d fallen hard and landed penniless. He couldn’t let that happen again, just when his career—and his bank account—was taking off again.

The girl at the cash register gave him a funny look, but he wasn’t about to leave until Melody had driven away. Better to distance himself and focus on what he’d come to the States to do: reinvent classical music and make it accessible so more kids held violins instead of video-game controllers. If he couldn’t do that, then the Easthampton Civic Symphony’s days were numbered no matter how many donors he found.

Melody stuffed the turtle into her car and drove off with the same reckless burst of fuel she used the other night.

Smiling despite himself, Wolf pushed through the double doors. He wouldn’t have to see her again until rehearsal, and then at least there’d be an entire orchestra between them.

Chapter Six

Magic Wands

“Mel-D!” Violet’s eyes lit up as Melody walked into her hospital room holding the giant stuffed turtle under her arm. “For me?”

“Of course it’s for you!” Melody kissed Violet’s cheek and plopped the turtle in front of her on the bed.

Mission accomplished
. Seeing her niece sitting up and smiling eased her heart.

“I’m gonna call her Mrs. Shell.”

“Mrs. Shell, huh?” Melody tugged on the turtle’s bow, straightening it. “Any relation to Mr. Shell?”

Violet nodded emphatically. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, thanks, Mel. All we hear about is Mr. Shell.” Laini laughed from the back of the room. She sat with Derek in chairs by the window, and when they rose, it was like rocks were tied to their shoulders.

“Thanks for coming.” Derek gave her a weak smile. His usually clean-pressed business shirt was rumpled and stained. “It means a lot to Laini.” They’d been through hell and back, and Melody couldn’t imagine herself in their shoes.

She leveled her gaze with her sister. “What did the doctors say?”

Laini brought her over to the corner of the room where Violet couldn’t hear. “She has Children’s Interstitial Lung Disease. It’s a chronic condition that we’ll have to monitor over time.”

Melody’s stomach plummeted. “I’m so sorry. But I know you can get through this. Violet is a strong girl.”

Her older sister wiped her eyes, already framed in dark purple circles. “You’re right. It’s totally manageable. We have to keep an eye on it, that’s all.” She seemed as though she was still convincing herself instead of Melody. “Derek and I are more than relieved she’s going to be all right. Thanks for coming today and being here for us.” Laini squeezed her arm and her eyes had a moment of clarity. “Did you sleep at all after I called?”

Melody considered covering up her
Blue Planet
marathon but decided against it. “No, but I learned the tusk of an African elephant weighs fifty to a hundred pounds.”

“What about turtles?” Violet called out behind her. She hugged the stuffed animal, warming Melody’s heart.
Yeah, it was worth it—even if the new conductor saw me in my pajamas, carrying an enormous stuffed tortoise in a toy store.

“Sorry, no turtles on last night.” Melody sat on the end of Violet’s bed. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“Excited.” Violet wiggled the giant turtle, making it dance on its stumpy legs.

“Excited?” Melody glanced at Laini and Derek. They simultaneously shrugged.

“Yeah. Cuz the funny piano man is coming today.”

Melody didn’t think she heard her correctly. “The funny piano man?”

Violet giggled. “The other kids say he acts like Mozart, wearing a wig and everything, and he lets you conduct the music with a real baton.”

“Did they say what his name was?”

“Mozart, sillyhead.”

Derek pointed his finger at her. “Don’t call your aunt a sillyhead, young lady.”

“Why don’t you take Violet down and see?” Laini leaned back in her chair and cracked her neck. “It would give us a chance to get some shut-eye.”

Melody couldn’t believe she was actually considering staying on the chance the “piano man” might be Wolf.
I’m here to spend time with Violet, not go chasing after men.

Violet gave her the sad puppy dog eyes. “Puleeze?”

How could she refuse such a cute, pouty face? Besides, it probably wasn’t Wolf. The “piano man” could be Mr. Wallsworth for all she knew. He was retired and had a lot of time on his hands. And she’d love to see Mr. Wallsworth again. Maybe she could even fill him in on what was happening with his orchestra. “All right, I’ll take you down. What time is he coming?”

“Eleven.” Laini checked her watch. “You’d better go now if you want good seats.”

Violet grabbed her hand and Melody squeezed. “Mozart, here we come.”

They shuffled down the corridor toward the children’s playroom, Melody watching Violet like a mother hawk. “You tell me if you start to feel funny, okay?”

Violet huffed. “Okay, Auntie Mel-D.”

People had already gathered in the playroom. A few parents and nurses stood by the door. Violet ran and sat in the front row on the floor next to the other kids, while Melody took a seat in the back by a wall painted with children riding a carousel. Some of the children wore their hospital gowns, trailing IV bags on poles, while others wore pajamas. A girl with a ragged pink burn covering half her face sat next to Violet. Behind them sat a bald little boy holding a teddy bear.

Empathy spread through Melody’s soul. All these little kids had problems bigger than she could imagine, and they were so cheerful, so brave. They sat facing the stage in the center of the room with hope in their eyes. Whoever this conductor was, he gave them something special to look forward to. To Melody, that was magic.

“
Guten tag
, little music makers!” A man wearing an eighteenth-century overcoat and an oversize white wig sprang into the room. Powder dusted his face, but Melody recognized the heavily accented bass voice before she even saw him. Her breathing quickened as her stomach somersaulted.

Wolf bowed before the kids as they clapped and laughed. He walked to an electronic piano set up by the coloring desks and played the Turkish March forward, backward, then upside down. The kids hooted and cheered hysterically. The little bald boy fell over with laughter.

Was this really Wolf? Melody couldn’t match the snobby, stiff-backed conductor with the goofy man in the white wig. Which one was show and which one was real?

Violet bounced on her butt and shouted, “Are you really Mozart?”

He spoke in a string of German words that Melody couldn’t understand, then winked at Violet. “What do you think?” At that moment, his eyes caught Melody’s. Her pulse raced and her face heated. It was almost as if he asked her the question she’d just asked herself.

What
did
she think?

Before Violet could answer, he had the nurses pass out sparkling wands.

So that’s why he was at the toy store.

Using a laptop and speakers, he blasted Beethoven’s fifth symphony and taught the kids how to conduct the opening. After that, he let them go crazy, swinging their batons any which way they liked to express themselves through the music. He danced with them, swinging them up when the music crescendoed and diving them back down again with a descending run.

The mom sitting beside Melody leaned over to whisper in her ear. “He’s wonderful with the kids, and he does it all for free.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “As part of the volunteer program. I’m the president of the Helping Hands Organization. He signed up the day he got to the States.”

Melody had never seen such laughter and compassion in his eyes. And she thought
she
was Mother Theresa for bringing a stuffed animal? She remembered what he’d said to her earlier.
I have a few ideas to boost enthusiasm for classical music, starting with the area’s youth.

He’d hinted at his dreams at the bar, when she thought he was giving her a cop-out answer for a business plan. Bringing classical music to these kids clearly gave him the same feeling Melody had bringing Violet her stuffed turtle. Although Wolf touched many more lives and preserved the tradition of the classics, something these kids might never be exposed to with music programs getting cut all over the state. Perhaps that little girl with the burned face would take up the piano, or the little bald boy might learn the drums, all because of Wolf visiting the hospital when they were sick.

She’d been so wrong about him. Not only was he gorgeous and talented, but he also had a whopper of a heart underneath his frigid facade. So why did he show the stone face at rehearsal? Was he afraid to show his true self, or did he need to distance himself from his work? She had no idea, but she felt determined to find out.

…

Wolf played his keyboard, trying not to steal glances at Melody from across the room. On one side, a little girl wearing pajamas with turtles licking lollipops pounded on the treble keys, and on the other, a bald little boy with big, brave blue eyes trilled the bass notes.

He was supposed to be spending time cheering up these kids, but she kept distracting him, making him almost forget the notes to Beethoven’s fifth and lose the beat. After noticing the little girl’s turtle pajamas and her heart-shaped face, he was pretty sure Melody’s niece stood beside him, laughing and having a great time.

Try as he might, after talking with Melody at the bar and seeing her in her pajamas, buying that cute little girl the turtle, he couldn’t think of her as just another employee any longer. She was so much more than that, and if he wasn’t careful, she’d burrow deep into his heart.

The last thing he needed was another romance, another heartbreak.

“Why are you sad, Mozart?” The little boy had stopped playing the piano and turned to him.

Wolf shook his head to clear his thoughts. If he stopped focusing in front of these little kids, then he was really losing it. “Who, me? I’m not sad.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His little bones felt so small and weak.

The boy must have gone through so much pain, and yet he cared more for Mozart than his own happiness. Wolf was supposed to be cheering
them
up, not the other way around. “I’m thinking of my next song to write.”

“Really?” His face brightened. “What’s it going to be about?”

“Courage.” Wolf smiled and played a hero motif on the piano. He turned back to the boy. “Inspired by you.”

The boy smiled tentatively, as if he didn’t believe him.

Wolf gestured for him to join in. “But I need a partner to play the bass.”

“Okay!” The boy pressed some keys, and Wolf matched his notes to his own hero theme. This was what classical music should be like—not played in some stuffy concert hall with enormous ticket prices, but shared with everyone.

As if they had a mind of their own, his eyes glanced back to Melody. The second his gaze met hers, she turned away, but not before he’d caught her expression while he was playing with the boy.

She’d been watching him with a fascination he’d only seen her use when she played.

Why would a goofy conductor show intrigue her? An idea locked in place inside his heart like a flame being struck. It wasn’t the show; it was him.

Wolf froze as if stunned. Could his principal flutist, the one woman in the orchestra who called him out on his sour expressions that first day, be interested in him? Desire stirred in his gut despite the fact that Blake had deemed everyone in his orchestra off-limits.

Wolf loved a challenge. If Melody Mires was indeed attracted to him, maybe he should consider doing something about it…

…

“Mel-D.” Violet ran up and tugged on her sleeve. Somehow the show had ended and Melody had been too shocked from finding out Wolf was a good guy to notice.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah. Look what I got.” She twirled around with her new sparkly baton. Her turtle pajamas weren’t too different from Melody’s night stars.

“I see that. What did you think of the music?”

Violet gave her a thumbs-up.

“Come on, let’s go tell Mommy about the show.” Before she could usher her niece from the room, though, Wolf stood before them like a UPS employee awaiting a signature. “Good to see you here, Miss Mires.”

Wolf still wore the Mozart-esque long coat and floppy wig. In those clothes, he reminded her of the man from her dreams.
You’re going to have to kiss me
. Melody suppressed a tremble as she fumbled for words. “It was a…surprising show.”

His lips curled into a sly smile. “No sour expressions this time?”

Melody wanted to dart from the room before a clever response came to her. Thank goodness she still had some of that sass. “No. But there weren’t any tuning notes.”

Wolf’s brow raised as if she had the brightest idea in the world. “I’ll have to add those next time. You need to give them the full experience, eh?”

Melody stood speechless. The German conductor had a sense of humor.

Wolf glanced at Violet. “I’m assuming this is your niece?”

“Uh-huh.” Violet nodded empathetically.

He crouched to her level and smiled. “Melody told me you like turtles.”

Violet whirled around to Melody with suspicion and awe shining in her little brown eyes. “You know Mozart?”

“Sort of.” Melody smoothed Violet’s bed-head hair, thinking they should have combed it before they came down. She didn’t want to think of her own unwashed dark curls. Or the fact that she was
still
in her pajamas. Did he think she wore them all day?

“Miss Mires plays in the orchestra I conduct.” Wolf spoke to Violet as if she was a business partner, which made Melody like him even more. Anyone who treated a kid as an equal had to have a big heart.

“You two should go out,” Violet blurted, sticking her baton down her pajama shirt.

Melody covered her face with her hands. Leave it to Violet to say the one thing she shouldn’t. Had she inherited the dreaded Mires family outspokenness as well? Melody grabbed the end of the baton and pulled it back out. “No, honey. Don’t put that down there.”

“Go out?” Wolf persisted, his eyes straying to Melody.

“Yeah, like on a date.” Violet laughed, pulling on his wig. “Like Mr. Shell and Mrs. Shell.”

Melody knelt next to her niece and put both hands on her arms, pulling her away from Wolf. “Violet, hon. Mozart is very busy, and we need to let him pack up his piano.”

Wolf’s voice changed from cheerful to smoldering. “I do need help with research on potential donors and advertisers for our program book. How about six o’clock tonight? I’ll pick you up in front of Wallsworth Hall.”