29. Tess #2
"There you are!" Jane's voice cuts through the conversation as she and Trey approach, champagne flutes in hand. "We've been looking for you."
Jane hugs me tightly, whispering in my ear, "You look amazing. No one would guess you're growing two humans in there."
"That's what I told her," Charlie says, giving Trey a firm handshake that turns into a half-hug.
"So, twins," Trey says, grinning. "You didn't waste any time, Charlie."
"Trey!" Jane elbows him, but she's laughing. "Ignore him. We're just so excited for you both."
"Jane's already bought them matching onesies," Trey confides. "One says 'Copy' and the other says 'Paste.'"
"I couldn't resist," Jane admits. "And I may have ordered a custom rocking horse. Tess, you should see it—it’s absolutely gorgeous. It's being hand-painted right now."
"Oh my gosh! You’re the best!" I give her another big hug.
"My niece and nephew deserve to develop their riding skills early. Olympic equestrians, both of them, I'm sure of it."
Charlie laughs. "Let's let them be born first before you start planning their athletic careers."
"I've been thinking about music, actually," I admit. "How early to start them on instruments."
"Both," Jane declares. "They can be musical equestrians. Now, come sit with us. I want to hear all about the ultrasound."
As Jane leads me away, her arm linked through mine, I glance back at Charlie. He's watching us, a soft smile playing on his lips, and something in my chest expands. I love all of these people so much.
A little later that night, the band transitions to a slower number, and Charlie pulls me onto the dance floor, his hand warm against my back. For a moment, I let myself forget we're at a family wedding and simply enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, swaying to the music.
That's when I spot her through the crowd—Barbara Carlton, the woman who was so rude to me following my audition with the symphony.
"What's wrong?" Charlie asks, feeling my change in energy. "Are you tired? We can sit down."
"No, it's—" I nod slightly toward where Barbara stands, chatting with an older couple. "Barbara Carlton is here."
Charlie's jaw tightens. "Ignore her. She's not worth your energy."
"Easy for you to say. She didn't publicly question your professional credentials." But I try to relax against him, focusing on the gentle pressure of his body against mine.
The song ends, and Charlie leads me off the dance floor toward the bar. "Sparkling water?" he asks, and I nod.
While Charlie signals the bartender, I glance around the room, admiring the elegant blue and silver decorations. The Edgewater has always been one of my favorite Seattle hotels, with its rustic-luxe aesthetic and spectacular water views.
"Tess Whitlock, isn't it?"
The voice sends a cold prickle down my spine. I turn to find Barbara Carlton standing beside me, clutching a martini glass. She has a perfect French manicure and is wearing a very expensive looking silver dress.
"Mrs. Carlton," I say, forcing a polite smile. "How nice to see you again."
"I hear congratulations are in order." Her eyes glitter with anything but warmth. "You've certainly made yourself comfortable at the Seattle Symphony."
"Thank you. The position has been wonderful." I keep my voice steady, though my heart begins to race. Why is she talking to me?
"Mmmm." She takes a delicate sip of her martini. "Gloria Stewart's maternity replacement, isn't it? Quite the lucky timing."
Charlie returns with my sparkling water, his expression darkening when he sees Barbara. "Ms. Carlton," he says, his voice cool as he slips a protective arm around my waist.
"Charlie," she acknowledges with a thin smile. "I was just telling Tess how fortunate she is. Not many musicians make such...convenient transitions between orchestras. Especially with PacWest's unfortunate situation."
The implication hangs in the air, as deliberate as the last time she insinuated I only got my position through Charlie's influence.
"Yes, I've been very fortunate," I say, finding my voice. "Maestro Cortez has been incredibly supportive."
"I'm sure he has," Barbara says with mock sweetness. "It must be nice having such powerful...connections. You two have been quite the item this summer traipsing from wedding to wedding. And then you were somehow able to get an audition with the symphony."
Before I can respond, Charlie steps forward. "Barbara," he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone I've never heard before, "I'm curious why you're so invested in my girlfriend's career path."
Barbara blinks, momentarily thrown off balance. "I'm merely making conversation, Charlie."
"No, you're not," Charlie says, each word precisely enunciated. "You're insinuating that Tess's position with the symphony is due to anything other than her exceptional talent. Twice now. And I'm wondering why you feel the need to do that."
Barbara's cheeks flush slightly. "I didn't mean to imply?—"
"Yes, you did," Charlie interrupts. His voice remains conversational, but there's steel beneath it.
"Tess graduated from Julliard. She was principal cellist with PacWest for five years.
She's been performing since she was seven years old.
" His eyes never leave Barbara's face. "The only reason her connection to me matters is that I was lucky enough to hear her play and recognize her extraordinary talent before we ever became involved. "
I feel a rush of warmth at his defense, but Barbara's eyes narrow.
"Well," she says with a forced laugh, "I was only?—"
"Only what, Barbara?"
Bev Astor's voice cuts through the tense conversation. She appears at Charlie's side, elegant as ever in her navy dress, but her eyes are glacial as they focus on Barbara Carlton.
"Bev," Barbara says, her voice suddenly honeyed. "Lovely wedding. Anna looks radiant."
"She does, doesn’t she?" Bev replies, her smile forced. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. I'm so curious—do you also question the credentials of the male musicians in the symphony, or is your concern reserved exclusively for talented women?"
Barbara's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. "I—I wasn't questioning?—"
"Because it sounds remarkably like you're suggesting that a woman couldn't possibly earn her position through merit alone," Bev continues, her tone conversational but with unmistakable venom underneath. "Which would be not only offensive but embarrassingly outdated, don't you think?"
Barbara's face has gone from slightly flushed to an alarming shade of red. "You misunderstood me completely, Bev. I was merely complimenting Tess."
"Were you?" Bev tilts her head, her expression one of polite disbelief.
"How fascinating. Because it sounded precisely like the sort of petty, thinly-veiled insult that got you removed from the Art Museum board last year. You remember—after that unfortunate comment about Margaret Wilson’s curatorial credentials? "
Barbara's knuckles go white around her martini glass. "That was a completely different situation."
"Was it?" Bev raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Because it seems to me you have a pattern of questioning the achievements of women more talented than yourself." She places a hand on my arm. "Tess, darling, Jane was looking for you. Something about the quartet playing your favorite Debussy piece."
I recognize the escape route being offered. "Of course. If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Carlton."
As Charlie and I walk away, I hear Bev saying, "Now, Barbara, I think it's time we discussed your recent comments at the Hospital Foundation gala as well..."
"I'm sorry about that," Charlie says once we're safely out of earshot. "Barbara Carlton is a poisonous woman who can't stand to see other people succeed."
"Your mother was amazing," I say, still stunned by Bev's precise takedown.
"Mom doesn't put up with that shit," Charlie agrees, pride evident in his voice. "Especially not when they're attacking someone she cares about."
The realization that Bev Astor considers me someone she cares about enough to defend publicly hits me with unexpected force. I feel the sting of unshed tears.
"Hey," Charlie says softly, tilting my chin up. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." I blink rapidly. "Just...stupid pregnancy hormones."
He smiles, seeing through the excuse. "Barbara Carlton is irrelevant. Everyone who matters knows exactly how talented you are."
I glance across the room to where Bev has Barbara cornered, the older woman nodding emphatically while Barbara looks increasingly uncomfortable.
"I think I'm beginning to understand why people find your family intimidating," I say with a small laugh.
"We protect our own," Charlie says simply. His hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining. "And you, Tess Whitlock, are definitely one of our own now."
The way he says it—like a promise, like a future—makes my heart beat faster.
"Come on," Charlie says, tugging me gently toward the dance floor. "Let's give people something to really talk about."
As he spins me carefully into his arms, I catch a glimpse of Barbara Carlton slinking toward the door, Bev Astor watching her retreat with satisfaction.
I smile against Charlie's shoulder, feeling like I truly belong here—not as an imposter playing a part, but as myself, exactly where I'm meant to be.