Chapter Eight #3
She repeated the phrase and nodded.
“Here’s hoping.”
The phone rang again. Angelica looked at it and then shrugged.
“Let it ring. Thanks for cutting the grass. It smells so fresh. And the roses show better without the scraggly grass. Want more tea?”
The phone continued to ring.
“Let’s move to the porch,” she suggested.
She’d never deliberately ignored her parents in her life. It felt oddly liberating. She was an adult. She could make her own choices. And right now she chose to not answer the phone just because it was ringing.
After Kirk had left, however, Angelica began to feel a twinge of guilt. She should at least see what her agent had to say. She could always just say no.
Calling him, she was surprised how anxious he was to speak to her.
“Never leave town without leaving a forwarding phone number,” he said.
“I’m on vacation,” she said, not at all pressured by Henry, not like with her parents. “My mother said you have a gig?”
“I cringe at your slang. This is a marvelous opportunity to showcase your best work in a tour of five capitals in Europe, several concerts in each venue. It’s in conjunction with the Musique Francais production. How can you refuse?”
“When and where?” she asked.
The Musique Francais was very prestigious. Her mother was right, this would be the opportunity of a lifetime—especially for one as young as she was.
“Rome, Berlin, Madrid, Paris and London. Starting the second week in September. I’ve already stalled longer than I should have, trying to reach you. You’d have to fly to London to begin rehearsals and practice next week. There is no time to waste. How soon can you be back in New York?”
“That’s a problem,” Angelica said. “I’m teaching two students and can’t leave before the music festival.”
“What? You’re teaching!” Henry sounded astonished. “That’s preposterous. Unless—are they gifted—would I need to hear them?”
“They’re learning folk songs from this area, so I don’t think they are your average client, Henry.
Actually it’s turning out to be quite fun.
I love the excitement they have for learning.
And I’m learning as much by helping them.
I did promise I’d do what I could to get Sam ready for the festival.
He’s worked so hard. They plan to come practice even on a Saturday. How’s that for dedication?”
“Whatever are you thinking?” he asked. “You aren’t a teacher—you’re a gifted violinist.”
Angelica explained, ending with, “So, you see, I have to meet this commitment.”
“I see nothing of the sort. The child is eight. He can practice on his own. Let the locals teach him. Let him wing it. You’re needed here and then in Europe.”
“There’s no teacher until Webb Francis gets well. And I made a commitment.”
“Break it. This is far more important. Do you know how rare it is to get this kind of chance?”
She bit her lip with indecision. She did know how rare it was. And what a boost to her career it’d be to have this to include in her CV.
Then Sam’s face danced before her. He was counting on her.
“I’ll have to let you know.”
“Angelica.”
“I’ll think about it and call you back in a day or so. Goodbye.”
She was getting good at ending conversations when she was finished being harangued by the other party. At least he didn’t have her phone number to keep calling like her mother did.
She went to sit on the porch, gazing at the newly mowed lawn, feeling the heat seep into her.
For an instant she felt like a reprimanded schoolgirl.
Taking a breath, she hoped she could focus on the decision needed and not her frustration with the way others treated her.
She appreciated the work Henry did for her.
But ultimately, it was her decision in which way to take her career.
The thought of playing in some of the capitals of Europe was very tempting. A few weeks ago she’d have jumped at the chance. Now, she wanted to take a little time and consider all the ramifications. Maybe a walk would clear her head. She headed toward town and the familiar sights there.
Melvin and Paul were on the porch and she waved, but didn’t stop. Only when she was getting uncomfortably hot did she retrace her steps.
Mentally listing all the positive aspects of her vacation, she wanted to be able to articulate all her reasons if she decided against this tour.
She didn’t touch on the one where she felt smothered and confined with the direction her parents so supported.
Somehow she had to come up with a logical reason not to take the tour or accept and give up the vacation she was enjoying.
Kirk knocked on her door just before six pm. He’d showered and changed and looked amazing in a blue cotton shirt and khaki pants. She let him in and stepped back lest she give in to the overwhelming temptation to throw herself into his arms.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I thought you might like to get away for a while. We could eat at the diner.”
She studied him for a moment, wondering about his earlier ultimatum to get out of town. She didn’t know what had changed, but smiled and nodded.
“I’d love it. I’ve been with too many spinning thoughts this afternoon.”
“How old did you say you were?”
“I know, my parents can be bit overbearing. This is the first time I’ve challenged them with anything and I think they don’t know how to handle it.
I’m their only child, I’ve been so dutiful all along, this is a major change.
My mother wanted me to spend the summer at Cape Cod.
My father usually goes along with what my mother wants. ”
“Most kids rebel sometime in their teens. This is hardly rebellion in a major sense, but maybe you’re overdue. And I can’t see how what you do impacts their lives now that you’re grown and on your own. You live in Manhattan, not Boston.”
Ruefully she shrugged.
“I’m sure it’s better to say my daughter is touring Europe than she’s in the boonies of Kentucky.”
“They’re snobs,” he said easily.
Angelica wanted to refute that. She even opened her mouth, then shut it. Thinking about it, were her parents snobs?
“You could be right. I never thought about it before.”
He tapped his finger against her chin.
“You’re a bit of a snob yourself.”
“I am not.”
“Not so much now, but I remember your look of horror when you stepped off the bus.”
“It wasn’t snobbery, it was astonishment that I was still in America and stepped off into such a different world.”
She didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. She didn’t want to be thought of as a snob.
“Ready to go? I thought we could take the bike.”
She grinned.
“Snobs do not ride motorcycles.”
“So maybe you’re broadening your horizons,” he said.
He got on the bike and waited. Angelica put her helmet on, wishing she and Kirk could just drive away and keep going until they ran out of gas. Evade making any decisions, just go where the mood struck.
She wanted to defend her choices, share with her parents her delight in the friendly people in Smoky Hollow who had gone out of their way to make her welcome. Convey all the new experiences that flooded her every day. The fun she was having.
When they sat in the booth at the diner Angelica realized how out of place her parents would be in a setting like this.
Their sophisticated clothing would shout to the world they were not from Smoky Hollow. She knew her mother would look with disdain at Angelica’s appearance. She’d worn nice slacks and a cotton top—perfectly suited to the community. She liked the feeling of fitting in. Her mother would be critical.
She refused to let her mother’s voice echo in her mind. She wondered when she’d felt that way before—if ever. Glancing at Kirk, she made a decision–no more dwelling on what others thought. This was her vacation and she’d spend it however she wanted.