Chapter Three
Three
Charlie
“I can’t believe I let you volunteer me for this,” Charlie said, meeting her grandmother in the lobby of Glendale.
Gram caught her in her arms and pecked her on the cheek. “Good afternoon to you, too.”
Charlie grumbled in the back of her throat. Was it a good afternoon? She’d hardly made a dent packing up Gram’s living room, and she still had both china hutches to tackle. On top of that, now she had to…
In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely clear on what Gram had signed her up for.
What exactly did the role of volunteer music director consist of?
Was she teaching a class? Did Julian expect her to don a black hat and tap heels and do a little dance across a stage?
She probably should have inquired about the expectations, but it had all happened so fast yesterday, and she’d still been annoyed with him, never mind with Gram’s penchant for getting her roped into things.
Before she knew it, the elevator doors had closed on Julian’s annoyingly cheerful smile.
It was a dangerous kind of smile—buoyant and maybe even a little bit cheeky. It was that smile that had convinced her to go on a date with him in the first place all those years ago.
Gah! She couldn’t believe he was using it on her again like she was young and naive enough to fall for it.
“You look nice,” Gram was saying as she looped her arm through Charlie’s, guiding her through the lobby.
“I was forced to put on makeup to hide the bags under my eyes.”
“Sure you didn’t dress to impress a certain someone?”
“I will leave right now,” Charlie warned, even as heat spiraled through her.
Why the hell would she be trying to impress Julian?
He’d made it clear that he hardly remembered their time together, so that was where she was going to leave everything.
Forgotten in the past, where it didn’t have any way to hurt her now.
Gram’s lips quirked, the lines by the corners of her mouth deepening. “Oh, come on. Being here isn’t that bad. And you didn’t really think I was just going to let you dump me and run off, did you?”
Charlie scoffed. “Gram, I came all the way out here to help you move in. It’s not like I’m abandoning you.”
Gram stopped walking, reaching out to tuck a lock of Charlie’s hair behind her ear. “Exactly. It’ll do us some good to hang out. It keeps me young and all that.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you refer to yourself as old.” If anything, Gram was the one keeping Charlie young.
“My mind is young, these bones, not so much. But they’ve still got some life in them.” Gram squeezed Charlie’s arm gently. “Besides, you told me you had no immediate plans. So if not here, where else would you be running off to?”
Far away from Elm Springs and Tom’s memory and reminders that Gram was getting older and all these damn feelings.
She’d already realized it was harder to lock them away here, especially with Christmas right around the corner.
Holidays had always been cheerful and festive, with the family packed in at Gram’s house.
But without Tom around to share in those holidays…
She needed to be gone before then. Which was why she needed to be spending her time sorting the house and helping Gram get settled instead of getting sidetracked by Julian’s music situation.
“Anyway, I think it’ll be good for you.” Gram put her arm around Charlie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “This might be an opportunity to get in touch with yourself again.”
Oh boy, Charlie knew where this was headed. Gram didn’t mean get in touch with herself, she meant get in touch with music.
“It’s just a fun, no-strings-attached, little volunteer gig.”
“I’m well aware of what this is, and I’m fine, Gram.” The last thing Charlie needed was a pity project at a retirement home.
“If you were fine, you’d have taken that contract in New York City you told me about. That little ensemble role.”
“It wasn’t the right fit. I also told you that.”
“And what of the numerous auditions you’ve been offered over the last couple of years?”
Charlie’s throat felt like it was closing up. She did not want to talk about this. “None of them were the right fit,” she managed to say.
“Charlie—”
“Gram, don’t—”
“It was two years ago,” Gram continued, matter-of-fact. “We all miss Tom.” She gestured around at the building. “But life goes on. It has to. And you have to move with it, or you’ll get swept away.”
Funny, that was the same thing the therapist had told Charlie, back when she’d still been going to therapy.
There was a brief period of time after Tom’s passing when Charlie thought therapy might make sense of the gaping hole in her chest. It hadn’t, so she stopped going.
“Life isn’t sweeping me away. I’m just reevaluating things. ”
“You loved being onstage,” Gram pointed out.
And yet she hadn’t been on a stage since.
“I think if you’d just call Alicia, she could get you back out there performing again, and you could—”
“Gram, please,” Charlie said, a little exasperated.
Performing onstage, singing for a crowd…
Tom had been by her side for most of her career, guiding her, steering her.
He’d been a talented orchestra director, and he’d taken her along for the ride, inviting her to perform on stage with him.
She caught her lip between her teeth as emotion filled her chest to the point of bursting.
Tom had always been so proud of her. He’d called her his little sister with the soaring vocals.
“Growing up with Charlie was a great time, until I realized she could yell at me in three different octaves,” he used to joke with the audience.
She didn’t know how to be Charlie Ward, Juilliard-trained soprano, concert artist, sister without him.
“It’s not committing to anything. It’s just…opening the door.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.
I’m tired. The bed in your guest room is atrocious.
” She avoided the room they’d always occupied as kids, the one that had belonged to Tom while he…
Her thoughts trailed off. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to walk up those stairs to the second floor yet.
“And now I’ve apparently volunteered to host a geriatric music class. ”
Gram made a tutting sound. “One, the mattress in the guest room is practically brand-new. And two, I am one of those geriatrics you’re talking about, so watch it.”
Charlie groaned. “You’re not staying for the class, are you?”
“Of course I am.” Gram looked perplexed that she would suggest otherwise. “I’ve been inviting people, too.”
“Inviting who? You’ve just moved in. You don’t even know anyone yet.”
“Listen, if you think I’m going to pass up a chance to hear my granddaughter sing, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Who said I was singing?” Charlie winced. It was like a giant fist had gripped her insides, twisting and strangling.
Gram laughed. “What else would you be doing?”
“I don’t know. I thought there might be some of those little tambourines.”
“These aren’t toddlers, Charlie. You’re going to have to entertain.” Gram did some jazz hands. “Give ’em the old razzle dazzle as they say. But not too much. We’re all on heart medication and blood thinners now.”
Charlie shook her head at Gram’s little display as they paused outside a door at the end of the first floor hallway.
“I have it on good authority that this is where the magic happens,” Gram said, leading Charlie into a windowless room.
“Whose authority?” Charlie asked as she looked around.
There were a few hard-backed chairs scattered around the space, an old music theory textbook on the floor and a derelict-looking piano next to the wall.
Growing up, when Charlie had been nervous before a big performance, Tom had always told her to close her eyes and imagine a place where the music sang to her. This place was definitely not singing.
She spotted an old mic stand, and her footsteps echoed as she crossed the room. “The acoustics might not be terrible,” she admitted.
“I see you’ve found your way to our music room!”
Charlie turned to find Julian standing in the doorway, arms crossed, the sleeves of his shirt shoved up to reveal a pair of very toned forearms. She’d always been a sucker for muscled arms. Charlie fought off a flush, averting her eyes.
“Sorry,” Julian went on, “I would have met you, but I got sidetracked looking for a driver to take the bus to the community center.”
“And did you find one?” Gram asked.
“Well, Bert Crenshaw offered, but he hasn’t had a license for a good ten years now, so I thought I’d better look elsewhere before taking him up on his offer.”
“Good choice,” Charlie said, trying to think about something other than Julian’s arms.
“I mean, he used to drive school buses,” Julian said.
“So, if you’re in a real pinch—”
“—he could make do.”
Charlie inclined her head. “Might send you all to the hospital.”
“And get me fired,” he joked.
“But at least you’ve got options.”
“Right.” Julian trailed off awkwardly. Abruptly.
Which is perfectly fine! Charlie told herself, swallowing a bead of frustration. Because she didn’t want to playfully spar with him. This was strictly business.
Julian cleared his throat and threw his arms out. “What do you think?”
Charlie took a beat, trying to figure out what to say about the state of the room.
Julian held his hands up, like he was about to beg her not to run out the door. “Okay, I know what you’re thinking.”
Charlie smirked. “I highly doubt that.”
“It’s a little rough,” Julian admitted. He ran his hand through his hair, displacing the curls.