Page 22 of Not Another Love Song

She pulled back from Mabel and looked her in the eye. “Is that what happened between you and Ava Fitzgerald?” she asked softly. “She used you?”

Mabel sniffed and looked off over Gwen’s shoulder. “Maybe another time—”

“That’s what you always say when I ask you about her.”

Her full lips pressed together, and she busied her hands with the register. “We knew each other from a few orchestras, mainly Broadway pits. Once she had a name for herself and started playing engagements out of town, she always set me up as her sub. We were quite close—writing music together, dreaming up new arrangements. But then she met Nathan, and she had no use for me anymore. Nathan was going to save her father’s orchestra. Nathan wanted her to focus on playing rather than composing.

“I told her so many times to watch out for him. He was seeing someone in Seattle, but that didn’t stop him from courting Ava.” Mabel turned sharp eyes on her. “Never a good sign.” Gwen nodded studiously, as Mabel shook her head at the memory. “And the way he would present her in the early days, like he’d discovered her. So many times he treated her like a pupil instead of an equal. Her! The Ava Fitzgerald!”

The slam of the drawer made Gwen jump. Mabel rubbed her callused fingers over her brow and seemed to compose herself.

“You’re getting the opportunity of a lifetime by playing first chair,” she said. “But just be careful. Nathan likes to take credit for things he didn’t create.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Gwen chose her words carefully. “All this time I thought you hated the Pops, popular music. I didn’t know you disliked Nathan this much.”

“Believe me, it’s mutual. I’m not one to bottle up my opinions, as you know.”

She smiled and reached for Mabel’s hand.

“I’ll be careful, I promise. But I want this, Mabel. I’m completely overwhelmed, and I don’t think I ever would have dreamed of being first chair of the Manhattan Pops before today, but all I know is that I do want it. I’m sorry I’m not at Juilliard and I’m sorry I’m not playing seventh violin for some more prestigious symphony, but”—her voice caught—“but I’m not sure those were things I ever wanted. I want the opportunity to play solos.”

It was quiet, only the soft sound of Chopin playing over the speakers. Then Mabel’s hands were on her face, brushing her thumbs over her cheeks.

“That’s good enough for me, then.” Giving her a weak smile, Mabel took the violin case from her hands and laid it out on the counter. “Let’s see. Is this a good enough violin for ‘First Chair of the Manhattan Pops’?”

Mabel grinned, and Gwen felt her chest warm at the title.

First chair was not going to be a cakewalk. Nathan and Ava took her out to lunch the following week, talking her through the daily functions, the behind-the-scenes duties, and gave her an outline of what a season looked like for first chair. Gwen would shadow Ava for the rest of the season, moving up to third chair to sit directly behind her.

“How did Diane take that?” Gwen asked, thinking of the older, obnoxious woman who usually sat third chair.

“Oh, fine, fine.” Nathan waved his hand, dismissing it. “She’s very excited for you, I’m sure.”

Gwen sipped her tea, knowing that couldn’t be the case. How many of her friends and colleagues would resent her for this?

And before Gwen could even bring him up, Nathan told her that they had officially cut ties with Xander Thorne the day of her audition. He would not be joining them next season, and Gwen was silently grateful.

“So you weren’t kidding about ‘shuffling in the strings.’” Gwen chuckled nervously over her salad. “Letting Xander go right when Ava is stepping back?”

“We didn’t let him go.” Nathan cleared his throat. “We just gave him some bad news.”

Gwen looked up. Ava’s jaw was tight.

“He’ll be fine,” she said, sipping a midday brandy. “He has his whole career ahead of him with that little rock band. He wanted to cut back on his rehearsals anyway to spend more time with the…Guns and Roses or whatever,” she mumbled into her glass.

“Thorne and Roses,” Gwen corrected. “They’re not quite rock, actually. They have an entire album of Mozart and Bach but on electric instruments. It’s fascinating.” She stabbed at a crouton, trying to seal her mouth shut before she went on and on about Thorne and Roses for the next hour.

Ava’s eyes turned amber as she looked into her glass. “I didn’t know that,” she whispered. “I’ll have to take a listen.”

Later that night, Gwen sat at home with Jacob’s laptop, researching past first violinists, their ages, their backgrounds.

She was in trouble.

Following an internet rabbit hole, Gwen found interviews with Ava in the early days—just when she’d begun as first chair. Ava’s mother and father had founded the Pops themselves, her father conducting from its inception until he’d retired in the nineties. Ava’s uncle had played first chair under his brother until Ava took over for him in the early 2000s. It was incredible to hear the history of the Fitzgerald family and imagine the amount of talent in their blood, but Gwen was stuck on one thought.

Gwen Jackson would be the first person in first chair for the Pops whose last name was not Fitzgerald.

She drained her glass of wine and poured another.

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