Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JAY
San Francisco
One year later
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Claire asked.
"Does it really matter? Just play along. I promise that you won't be disappointed." Jay wrapped a warm towel around her as she stepped out of the shower.
"How am I supposed to know what to wear? Is it dressy? Casual?"
"It's casual… but kind of on the dressy side."
"Jay?" She folded her arms across her chest, giving him a sharp look. "What does that even mean?"
"Did you pack that little black dress?” he asked. “The one from our first real date?"
"Yes."
He gave her a thumbs up. "Then that's the one."
Jay waited in the living area of the suite while Claire finished getting ready.
After a morning of sightseeing and lunch at an upscale bistro, they returned to the solitude of the luxury Nob Hill hotel for a late-afternoon naked nap.
Lying beside her, he lost himself, almost to the point of canceling his surprise altogether.
But he'd made a promise long ago, and he intended to see it through.
"Now, you're sure this is alright?" she asked, standing in the doorway, turning from side to side.
"You look beautiful."
"Would you?" She turned around, motioning at her zipper.
"I don't think I should. It goes against my code of conduct."
"Code of conduct?" she questioned with half a laugh.
He slowly moved the zipper up her back, stopping to bury his head in her hair. He leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. "I prefer unzipping your dress."
"All in good time," she promised.
He swept her hair back, exposing her neck and covering it with soft kisses. "I know I've said it a thousand times, but I’m crazy about you."
She turned to face him. "And you can say it a thousand more because it never gets old."
"The cab is here so we better head on down."
"Aren't you going to give me a hint?" she asked, making a slight adjustment to his tie.
"Nope. Sorry. No hints."
They rode hand in hand down to the lobby and he ushered her out to where a black limousine waited.
“A limo! Jay Avery! You said a cab was waiting!" She swatted his hip.
"Well, this is outrageous! I specifically asked for a cab! Remind me to speak with management the minute we get back!" He stomped around the valet stand, hands thrown in the air for dramatic effect.
They'd barely pulled away from the curb when Claire's cell buzzed. She exchanged a curious look with Jay as she fished around inside her purse for her phone.
“It’s Molly,” she said. “Hope everything’s okay. It’s the middle of the night in England.”
“Yeah, but aren’t pregnant women up at all hours?”
Jay watched Claire’s face in the glow of her screen. Something good must be happening as her smile continued to grow while they texted back and forth.
“What’s up? Is she okay?” he asked.
Claire handed Jay her phone and he quickly read the exchange.
Molly: Up to pee, but wanted to let you know we decided on a name: Larrabee Wise Fielding. No hyphen.
Claire: Very strong and unique!
Molly: It's from the movie Sabrina. Remember David Larrabee? William Holden. Dancing on the terrace. What do you think?
Claire: I think it's perfect.
Molly: I'm working on a design for a tiny white tuxedo jacket for him. Like father, like son.
Claire: Book the photoshoot now!
Jay handed her phone back. "Larrabee Fielding. It's different."
"It's exactly what I'd expect from them. He's one lucky little boy. I've never seen Molly so happy."
“Her cigars and martinis have been replaced with prenatal yoga and fruit smoothies."
"Right?” Claire said. “And I’ve never seen Hamish like this. Becoming a father at his age? It’s literally taken years off his life. He cannot wait to hold that baby."
"Can you imagine your father becoming a father again at his age?" Jay asked.
"Only if he met my mother again," she said.
The limousine hummed through the heart of San Francisco’s cultural arts district before stopping in front of an impressive building in the newly renovated Civic Center.
Brightly lit stone pillars framed the Greek Revival facade, while the nearly deserted street lent the scene an air of quiet anticipation.
From Claire’s expression, Jay could tell he had piqued her curiosity.
"This is the place," he said.
He extended his hand and helped her from the car. She slipped her arm through his as they entered the building in silence. Only after she spotted the brass placard at the visitor’s station welcoming guests to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music did she speak.
"A concert?" she asked.
"The chair of the piano department is giving a private performance tonight,” he said.
"And you somehow managed to wrangle an invitation?"
"Something like that.” He shrugged with a smug grin. "I owe you one, remember? Our weekend in New York? The Nancy Chen concert we missed?”
"And now she's retired." Claire sighed. "We missed our window of opportunity."
"I know it's not the same thing, but who knows… the next Nancy Chen might be playing for us tonight."
They followed the signs to a set of heavy mahogany doors.
A tall, thin man ushered them into a dimly lit concert hall.
The intimate space held only about a hundred seats before a sparse stage, where a single, gleaming Steinway stood.
The stately architecture and historic atmosphere reminded Jay of the tiny conservatory at Hamish’s estate.
After a few moments of quiet observation, they took their seats—front row, center.
Jay reached for her hand, moving the platinum band back and forth. Though the ring had looked stunning in its box—the one he’d secretly carried since their emotional trip from New York to L.A.—it took on a new brilliance on her finger.
"You weren't kidding when you said private." She glanced around for a moment before it hit her. "We're the only ones in attendance tonight, aren't we?"
“Well, there's private and then there's private." He winked.
"Jay Avery, how do you manage to do the things you do?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
A hidden door on the left side of the stage opened and a young man wearing a dark suit stepped onto the stage.
Without acknowledging the two audience members, he approached the piano and sat down on the bench.
He played a portion of Chopin for less than a minute then stood and exited the stage with brisk steps.
"You went all out, didn't you?” Claire whispered. “That's officially the shortest concert I've ever attended.”
"I think he warmed up the keys," Jay said.
Seconds later, a woman emerged through the same hidden door. Her long, pale-pink silk gown skimmed the floor, making her seem to float toward the piano. She moved with quiet grace, soundless and poised. When she reached the sleek ebony instrument, she turned to them and nodded.
"Jay, that's… that's…” Claire gripped his arm.
"Nancy Chen," he winked again.
Without warning, she launched into a concerto that filled the concert hall with magic. Her artistry at the piano surpassed anything they had ever witnessed, and both sat utterly captivated. She honored Mozart’s genius not only with precision, but with a depth that moved Claire to tears.
A half-hour later, when the final notes faded and the hall fell silent, Ms. Chen stood and offered a slight bow.
Jay and Claire jumped to their feet, filling the air with applause.
Ms. Chen nodded, smiled, and motioned for them to join her.
Jay escorted Claire up a narrow staircase and they walked to the center of the stage to greet the famous musician.
"Good evening," Ms. Chen spoke first.
"You are incredible.” Claire beamed. “I honestly have no words."
"Impeccable as always,” Jay said. “You haven't lost your touch. Are you sure you’re retired?"
"For the moment, but you know better than most I rarely sit still for long.” She winked.
"I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Claire Jordan," Jay turned to Claire, his eyes sparkling.
"It's an absolute pleasure. Jay's told me so much about you." She extended her hand to Claire.
"It's an honor,” Claire said. “I've been a huge fan for years. We actually had tickets to your farewell show in New York—backstage passes and everything— but something came up at the last minute, and we weren't able to make it. I thought my chance of seeing you perform live was gone forever."
"Yes, I remember,” Ms. Chen said. “Well, I'm thrilled we could be together this evening."
The three spent several minutes chatting. Jay watched Claire's eyes and bit back a laugh. Twice she gave him a look that said, Jay Avery, how dare you keep your friendship with this woman a secret!
"Listen, we know you're very busy, so we won't keep you any longer," Jay said.
"I can't thank you enough for allowing us to bask in your great talent. I will never forget this night," Claire added.
"It’s been wonderful meeting you. From what I see, you two are going to be very happy together," Ms. Chen said. She shook Claire’s hand a second time and shared a warm smile.
"Please give my best to the counselor," Jay said.
"I certainly will." Ms. Chen nodded. "Take care of yourself, okay? And please, please, keep in touch."
“You know I will,” he promised.
Jay pulled her in for a hug and she whispered in his ear. “I think of you everyday. Every time I look at that beautiful painting. It’s the most special gift I’ve ever received.”
“I love you, Nang,” Jay whispered.
“I love you, too.”
Jay released her and stepped back. Tears filled her eyes, but she said nothing and only nodded—a nod that said, I’m fine.
You’re fine. We’re gonna make it. He had misjudged her on that first visit to her home, assuming her fame made her cold and unfeeling.
How wrong he had been. Even though the person who brought them together no longer remained, they had grown closer than he ever imagined.
"Good night," Claire said, linking her arm in Jay's once more.
"Good night," the woman answered softly.
Jay ushered Claire back down the steps. Ms. Chen rested her hand on the top of the piano, watching as the pair walked arm in arm up the aisle.
"Jameson?" she called out. “I’m glad you took my advice.”
He stopped and turned back toward the stage. "Advice?”
"You kept a green bough in your heart… and you found your singing bird."
Jay dropped his head for a moment as a tightness rose in his chest. When he met his former mother-in-law’s eyes again, he smiled with pride.
"You know what, Nang? I most certainly did."