Page 33 of The Second Ending
“Ashleigh, this is a bit awkward. There’s a short soprano solo in the folk song suite, and Emma has claimed it. I don’t even know where she found out we were singing it. Probably from Gordon. They’ve been friends forever. I hope it’s not stepping on your toes if I agree.”
This was surprising. “Me? Why are you asking my thoughts?”
“Well,” he breathed, shuffling his feet, “I had thought you might want to sing it. You did brilliantly with the Mozart in rehearsals. But Emma is so insistent. I know it’s my choice and not hers, but…” He shrugged.
Ashleigh understood. Emma was a bit of a steamroller at times.
“It’s fine. She’ll do a lovely job with it. Her voice has that brightness that will suit the music. I’m happy to let her sing it. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”
“Oh, good. That’s resolved then.” Randall’s shoulders relaxed. “I’d better get a few things organised. We’ve got some great news, and there’ll be an announcement. Oh, I see them now. Off I go!”
Ashleigh followed his progress to where Elise and her beau had just entered the room. She’d exchanged a few words with Will, and he seemed pleasant, if a bit reserved. Was he involved in this announcement?
Her curiosity was quickly satisfied.
Will, it transpired, was none other than William Pemberton, of Pemberton Holdings. As he moved to the centre of the semicircle of chairs, his whole demeanour changed, until he was the confident businessman, tall and sure, ready to address the choir. His first news was that Pemberton Holdings had just set up a new foundation in support of the arts, additional to, and separate from, its existing charitable foundation. He wavedaside the beginnings of a wave of applause from the choir members and went on with his speech.
“I am proud to be associated with the Queen City Arts Centre,” he said, “and I have been more than impressed with the Eglinton Echoes choir as well. In my talks with Randall, he has told me about your planned tour in the summer, and my foundation and I are interested in funding it.”
“However,” he grinned, “I have a personal connection to this choir.”
He gazed adoringly at Elise, and Ashleigh bit back a smile. At least someone was in line for a happily-ever-after. She was pleased for her friend. She and Will made a good couple.
“Consequently,” Will continued, “this sponsorship is not a decision I can make myself. We have to be completely transparent and above board. And so, I have appointed somebody else to make this particular decision. Her name is Catherine Berg. Full disclosure—she is my aunt. But she won’t let that stop her from making up her own mind. She will attend the rehearsal the week before the concert, and will base her recommendations on what she sees and hears then. I have every confidence she’ll love you as much as I do.”
With this, he turned to Randall and disappeared into some corner of the space, allowing Gordon to play the opening chords on the piano for the choir’s usual warm-up exercises.
“That’s big news!” Masako found Ashleigh during the break half-way through rehearsal. “Pemberton is a big deal. I think they’ve got their fingers in the pie for this condo development, but they’re not one of the big investors. By the way, have you heard from Marcus? I think something is up, but I can’t find any actual information. There are new signs on the fencing at the park that look different, but they don’t really say much. I wondered if you knew.”
Ashleigh looked back in surprise. “Me? No, why would I know?”
“Well, the two of you seem to be getting along quite well, and as a lawyer, I thought you might have some inside information.”
She pinched her lips. “No, I’ve heard nothing.” Not a word, other than those two terse messages that all but told her to stay away. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything.”
Masako seemed happy with that. “This sponsorship is interesting, though! Do you know anything about Catherine Berg? Gordon was saying she’s got quite a reputation, and not always a good one. A bit of a dragon. You’d better stay on her good side if you want anything from her, from what I hear. Still, she doesn’t have to be nice to be fair. As long as she’s got ears, she’ll know how good we are. I suppose we’ll all put in those extra hours learning our parts for the day she comes. It’s soon, too. Only another three weeks. I’m going to see if Randall knows anything else. I’d talk to Elise, but she’s a bit swamped with fans right now. We’ll talk soon!”
She was a force of nature, and Ashleigh liked her so much for it. If Masako was on their team, they had to win. Perhaps she should put Masako to work on her current problems with Marcus!
CHAPTER 19
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN
The restof the week held no joy for Marcus. Frequent calls to and from Nick yielded no more information. The other side had not yet reneged on their end of the deal, but neither had they signalled they would complete it as they’d planned. Marcus really did feel like the mouse being batted about by a malicious cat who wanted to toy with his prey before finishing it off.
He felt like crap. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his bones hurt, and to top it off, his throat hurt, and before the week was over, he ended up at the doctor’s office with a prescription for antibiotics and strict orders to take it easy.
Take it easy. That was a laugh. Except it hurt too much to laugh. If he hadn’t been warned off alcohol while on the antibiotics, he would have emptied a bit too much of his liquor cabinet.
Still, he sweated out the fever and huddled in his bedroom, sipping tea and sucking on cough drops, and watched bad movies in between peeks at his email. Sick or not sick, he had to keep on top of things.
Of course, he’d been unable to see Ashleigh. God, he wanted so much to see her and let her comfort him, as she had when they were together. She had a magic touch, her cool hands abalm on an uneasy brow, her gentle voice soothing and healing. She would make sure his temperature hadn’t risen again, would ensure he had enough to drink and that he ate. He could almost taste the soup she used to make that worked better than any medicine for banishing a cold.
Damn, he missed her.
His finger hovered over the keyboard on his phone. It would be so easy to send her a message, whining about his man cold and begging her to come and take care of him. Was he that pathetic? Maybe. But she’d come in a moment, and then he’d infect her too, and that he couldn’t live with. Nor did he just want her pity. He wanted her love.
Instead, he sent another note, more expansive than his previous ones, but still a bit cool.
