Page 47 of The Second Ending
Marcus’ eyes snapped open, and he shot a glare at Will.
The financier continued. “As the seller had previously done, I also established a shell company for the purchase. I didn’t want Lynch to know who I was. He was bitter enough—sorry, Marcus—that he sold the land to me for a bit less than the deal you had arrived at. I am now proposing to sell that same land to Laconia for exactly the purchase price, taking all fees and transfers into account, of course. It will still come to less than the original agreement.”
Marcus stared at him, dumbstruck. Was he drooling? He clamped his jaw closed.
“Why?” He managed to find the word he wanted. “I don’t understand. Why?”
Will smiled. “Because I think the project is a good investment. It’s a good plan, and will benefit the neighbourhood and the city, and I like it. I think Laconia Development has a bright future, and I want to be associated with you as you grow. I like you and your work ethic. I like Ashleigh. And because, frankly, I’ve dealt with Walter Lynch before, and the man is an ass. It’s satisfying to pull this over on him. Is the deal acceptable?”
It took a few attempts before Marcus could blurt out the words. It was, he asserted in half sentences and stammered syllables, more than acceptable. Nick’s face mirrored Marcus’ thoughts, all shock and amazement, and by the time the coffees had been consumed, plans had been made for a formal presentation of this proposal, with the appropriate meetings and negotiations to bring it all to a mutually satisfactory conclusion.
With Marcus’excellent and most unexpected news fresh in mind, Ashleigh steeled herself for the next rehearsal of the Eglinton Echoes. This was more than a rehearsal; this was the night Catherine Berg was coming, to pass judgement on the choir’s worthiness to receive funding for a planned tour. Ashleigh had been heartened by Emma’s gesture of apology and by an encouraging phone call from Randall. He informed her that if she did not attend and sing like the angel she was, his partner, Taylor, would cover her lawn with hundreds of garden gnomes. Ugly ones, too. How could she not laugh? Randall’s sweet nature and Taylor’s unexpected sense of humour were a big part of what made the Echoes so special.
She arrived early for rehearsal, anxious about how the others would react. Elise was the first to see her, and greeted her with a tremendous hug. “You okay? Actually, let me rephrase that. You’re okay! You’re looking terrific. Are things working out? Oh, I’m so pleased for you. Will said—” She stopped mid-sentence and looked up. “Oh, look, there’s Janet. I’d better see if she’s ready. She was really anxious last week.”
Everyone else had a kind word or encouraging smile, and by the time the rehearsal began, Ashleigh was feeling confident and ready to sing.
Under Randall’s baton, they sang their warm-up exercises and rehearsed the most challenging sections of the pieces. To her relief, Ashleigh sailed through last week’s minefields with ease. Even Emma gave her a smile. The younger soprano clearly regretted her outburst last week, and Ashleigh was happy to forgive her.
The grand lady herself, Catherine Berg representing Pemberton Holdings’ new arts foundation, arrived during the break. Randall and Gordon were there to greet her, and Elise hovered around as well. That made sense. Mrs Berg was Will’s aunt, and Will and Elise seemed a permanent couple. And, of course, Emma was there, the busy bee, rubbing up close to Mrs. Berg’s flower. Ashleigh expected nothing but.
Speaking of flowers, Mrs Berg must have loved them, because the lady smelled of roses! What perfume did she wear? And had she bathed in it? Randall must not have told her about the no-scent policy the arts centre and choir both had to protect people with sensitivities. Even Ashleigh, who loved roses, was a bit overwhelmed by the scent. She took a deep breath and moved towards her place, far enough away not to smell the perfume too strongly.
Randall called the choir to order, and the second half of rehearsal began. Except this was no rehearsal. This was an audition. At Randall’s gesture, Gordon played the opening chord, and the choir breathed as one, before letting the first glorious notes of the first chorus resonate through the room.
The choir was in fine form. This might have been the best they had ever sung. Even Emma had tempered her bright voice to blend with the rest of the sopranos. Then they moved to the folk songs, the hopeful and melodic pieces that they’d been working on so hard. The difficult piece was perfect; they made those complicated entries and unexpected harmonies sound easy and natural, and Ashleigh breathed a quick sigh of relief. The last piece, ‘The Queen of the May’, was simple for the choir, a hymn that depended more on beauty of tone and sensitive phrasing more than technical fireworks for its charm. Emma’s sweet soprano solo would be the icing on the cake.
Ah, that must be why Emma had been getting quieter and quieter through these pieces. She was saving her voice for her solo. Or… or was it?
The piece began, simple and lovely. Verse one, then the transition to verse two, and then Emma’s solo.
Emma opened her mouth to sing, but all Ashleigh heard was a half-gasped squeak, and the blonde soprano’s eyes went wide with horror. She wasn’t trying to save her voice. She’d lost it! Emma couldn’t sing!
Gordon, thank goodness, had his wits about him and realised something was wrong. He played through the transitional passage again, in case Emma had just forgotten to come in, but Ashleigh knew it was more serious than that. It must be the perfume. Everyone knew that Emma was allergic to roses. No wonder she couldn’t sing.
In a moment, she made a decision. She knew this piece. She’d been singing it to herself at work and at home, and was confident in the melody and the words.
Gordon finished the transition passage, and instead of Emma, Ashleigh opened her mouth and let the beautiful melody soar from the depths of her soul. She was a musician. She had trained for this. It was music, and music was like oxygen to her, nourishing her and filling her with life. The melody grew within her, spilling out with joy and reverence, until the short solo was over and the choir came back in to complete the piece.
And then, in the moment of silence after Randall had signalled the end of that last glorious chord, Mrs Berg rose to her feet and clapped her carefully manicured hands.
“I must say,” she announced, “that was rather nice. Not too bad at all. I was surprised, maestro, that you let your second soprano take the solo line for this session. I was expecting Miss Massey to sing. But if the second-best can perform so beautifully, I can only imagine the glories of your diva’s voice.Rather nice, indeed. I shall write my recommendation to the Foundation’s board.”
Ashleigh stood there, frozen in place. Had she really done that? Had she really sung something completely unrehearsed, that had impressed this formidable woman so much? After all those years of doubting her decisions, she had made this one and saved the performance!
Maybe, Ashleigh realised all of a sudden, she wasn’t quite so worthless after all. Ashleigh Lynch was, indeed, Good Enough!
CHAPTER 25
SECOND ENDING AND CODA
“That was phenomenal!”Marcus rushed into the rehearsal room from the hallway where he’d been waiting with Will and a smattering of other loved ones. “I knew you could sing, but I’ve never heard you like that. I’m proud to be seen with you.”
Ashleigh’s face grew warm with embarrassment, but she swallowed a blushed denial. “I love to sing. This is what I always wanted to do. And my family can’t stop me anymore.”
At Marcus’ questioning look, she explained, “They haven’t stopped me physically, but in here,” she tapped her head, “they’ve always been getting in the way. But no more. They’ve lost all power over me. I finally feel free to do whatever I want with my life. And share it with whoever I want.”
From the way his eyes darkened, he understood her meaning.
