Epilogue Harper
Epilogue
Harper
A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.
—Gustav Mahler
10 Years Later, Boston
“It’s strange how everything happens all at once,” I murmured.
And yet it felt like it took forever to get here.
I ran my hands over the embossed diploma cover from MIT for the hundredth time.
Dr. Harper Bennett, PhD.
“What’s that, baby?”
Mom sat on the couch, applying lipstick in her compact mirror.
She looked beautiful in a long blue dress, her hair almost entirely silver now.
Pale pink and gold light spilled over her from the living room window of my Boston townhouse.
The sun was setting over the city, casting it and my mother in a warm glow.
“I was just thinking it’s funny how I defended my dissertation and got my PhD just as Orion finished his tour. Chapters closing at the same time.”
“Well,” Mom said, “chapters close so new ones can open.”
She shot me a wink. I smiled back.
Maeve Bennett knew something about opening new chapters.
What had happened to me with Langford all those years ago had been the slap in the face she needed.
My shocking million-dollar payoff from Castle Hill Academy paid for her rehab, but it wouldn’t have worked if the desire to get sober hadn’t come from her.
Ten years later, and she hadn’t touched a drop. I knew it was a struggle for her every day, but she kept going, fighting for me, for herself, and for Dash.
I glanced over at my brother, sprawled on a chair, all gangly arms and legs in a suit, blond hair neatly combed—for a change—scrolling on his phone.
He felt my eyes on him and glanced up. “Yeah?”
“Speaking of new chapters,” I said. “I can’t believe you graduated high school.”
“Believe it, sister.”
“Nope. You’re not allowed to be seventeen. I forbid it.”
He snorted. “Then I have bad news for you. I turn eighteen in two weeks.”
“Stop it.”
He shot me a grin and went back to his phone.
The light is back in his eyes.
It had flickered, dimmed, and nearly gone out, but my money had paid for counseling for the three of us before I left for NYU.
Between Mom’s sobriety and Mrs. Andolina’s care, Dash had thrived.
He didn’t go to Castle Hill Academy—I made damn sure of that—but a high school in Providence.
He’d been an honor student, and was now on his way to Brown to study psychology.
“Well, I’m ready,” Mom said, snapping her compact shut. “Don’t want to be late for your husband’s big shindig.”
My husband.
Six years after the wedding, and I still got butterflies thinking of Orion as my husband.
We’d had a little ceremony right after I graduated from NYU and he finished his studies at Juilliard.
I didn’t want a big fuss, but something small and intimate.
But because Orion could not be contained, the reception was anything but small and intimate. I smiled just thinking about it.
Everything about my husband made me smile.
After Juilliard, concert halls and symphonies across the world clamored for him, but I was going to Boston, to MIT for my post-grad, and so he chose to play for the Boston Philharmonic to stay close to me.
But the world kept calling, and I wasn’t about to keep his star from shining.
He’d just finished his first major tour all over Europe and the States.
I’d skipped my graduation to see him play in the finale a week ago, and it was worth every minute.
To see him center stage, surrounded by nearly one hundred musicians, playing beautifully, brilliantly, and playing with so much heart, it left the audience in tears.
“It was my best concert,” he told me, “because it was the last one before I got to come home to you.”
Home. That’s what Orion wanted more than anything. To have a family. I’d seen it with Dash—how he was so natural and loving. Bursting with love and anxious to share it. But he’d waited patiently until I’d gotten my degree, until we were both established in our fields.
He’s waited long enough.
I smiled to myself and gathered my little clutch handbag. I wore an emerald-green dress, satiny and slippery, that slid over my skin like liquid mercury. I smoothed it over my stomach.
My mother gave me a funny look.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing. You look…radiant.”
“I’m happy,” I said, not meeting her eye. “Happy that Orion is home and I graduated, and we can…be together.”
“I’m happy for you too, baby. But you graduated from MIT with a doctorate in chemical engineering and water conservation or whatever, and you didn’t even walk in the ceremony.”
“The timing didn’t work out,” I said. “Plus, I don’t need the fuss.”
“You heard her, Ma,” Dash said. “She doesn’t need the fuss. Now can we go already?”
“Okay, okay.”
We headed down to the street. Orion had sent a car service to take us to the hotel.
My mother’s eyes widened as the driver opened the door for her.
She’d never gotten used to the sudden wealth in our family.
I hadn’t either, but I’d used my CHA money to pay for school—mine and Dash’s—and Orion had earned his way in the music world on his own.
I won’t pretend it wasn’t comforting to know his parents would support him should he fall, but Orion didn’t fall. He soared. Now someone, somewhere, was always learning his name.
At the Belmont Concert Hall, we stepped into the lobby, and I almost smacked right into Tessa Carlyle.
“Tessa!” I said, stunned.
“Oh, shit, hi,” she said, then threw her arms around me. “It’s been too long!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Shooting a movie,” she said, her smile bright. A Hollywood smile.
“What a coincidence,” I said. “Mom, Dash, this is Tessa Carlyle. We went to school together at Castle Hill and NYU.”
Dash gaped at the world-famous actress, practically drooling.
He’d seen her latest movie with the megastar, Zachary Butler, three times already.
She and I had managed to keep in touch despite her meteoric rise to fame, which I’d predicted a long time ago, and she and Emery had been bridesmaids at my wedding.
Tessa was dressed elegantly, her petite frame wrapped in a deep-purple dress.
“We look like we’re dressed for the same occasion,” I said. “Rooftop party? Orion is celebrating the end of his first major concert tour.”
“I hadn’t heard,” she said. “But I’ve been following his career. Unreal. And you! Congrats on the degree, Doctor Bennett. Or is it Dr. Mercer? Or Bennett-Mercer? I can’t remember what you decided on.”
“Bennett,” I said. “Harper Mercer sounded weird, and Orion doesn’t care.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.”
“You should come up. Say hi. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
Tessa smiled. “I think I will.”
“Great,” I said, and reached over to close Dash’s mouth.
***
The elevator door opened to a warm June night on a rooftop terrace above one of the city’s oldest concert halls.
Like most of Boston, it was all historic brick and grand columns, but with glass railings running the perimeter.
Warm lights were hung in gentle swoops overhead, and there was a bar, tables, music, and a dance floor.
Dozens of people—friends, musicians, and musical directors from Orion’s tour, I presumed—filled the patio in their finery, talking and laughing in clusters.
“Wow,” Mom said, glancing around. “This is lovely. Whoever planned this party has amazing taste.” She scanned the crowd. “Where’s Orion?”
“He had some things to wrap up,” I said. “Should be here any minute.”
Tessa wore her Hollywood smile again. “I’m going to the bar. Can I bring anyone anything?”
“Soda water with lime?” Mom said. “If you’re offering.”
“Same,” I said.
Tessa held out her hand. “Dash, help me carry?”
I thought my brother’s eyes might pop out of his head. “Uh, sure. Yeah. Yes.”
She took his arm, and they made their way through the crowd.
Mom turned to me. “No champagne? You don’t have to abstain on my account.”
“I know, I just…” I stammered. “Oh, there’s Orion.”
My breath caught like it always did at the sight of my husband, and his face when he saw me…
He’s going to make me melt into a puddle one day with that smile of his.
Orion was blindingly handsome in a tuxedo, black tie, red flower in the lapel. He approached and gave my mother a peck on the cheek.
“Nice to see you, Maeve. Lovely, as always.”
“Thank you, honey,” she said.
“And you…” Orion encircled me in his arms. He bent and kissed me softly. “You are stunning, love.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said, kissing him back and pretending my knees weren’t weak. I straightened his tie. “What is this all about? You don’t wear a tie unless you’re performing or you’re up to something.”
“Then I must be up to something,” he said, then shook his head. “Nah, there’s a good chance I’m going to be asked to play, so…”
I frowned. Nope. He was up to something.
Orion signaled to someone, and an announcement came over a mic for everyone to gather at the small makeshift stage.
“Come on,” Orion said, taking my hand and offering my mother his arm. “I have to give a boring speech, and then we can start this party, proper.”
We moved through the crowd. I thought I recognized some cohorts from MIT, and a pair of blue eyes rimmed in eyeliner met mine and then vanished.
“Wait,” I said. “I could’ve sworn I just saw…”
“Hm?” Orion said, rushing us through the crowd that had gathered around the small makeshift stage where a lone microphone stood.
“Never mind.”
Orion directed my mother to the front of the crowd. “Maeve, if you would. No, not you,” he said when I moved to stand beside her. He engulfed my hand in his. “You’re coming with me, Bennett.”
“No, no, no. This is your celebration. Your spotlight.”
“Not tonight.”
My husband took the stage and dragged me up beside him. I sighed fondly.
He cannot be contained.