Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
Charlie
Charlie had forgotten how much she liked the Upper West Side.
Actually, she’d forgotten how much she liked New York City during the holidays.
It had been several years since she’d been in the city around Christmas, and the streets were buzzing.
Christmas lights hung from lampposts in the shapes of stockings and jingle bells and holly leaves.
Shop windows had been decorated in fake snow, with the words Season’s Greetings scrawled in reds and greens.
Garland wreaths adorned almost every vertical surface.
Holiday cheer hadn’t been high on her priority list since losing Tom, and that void in her chest flashed with warning as she treaded too closely to the memories.
But it was hard not to get back into the spirit of things when she was voting on gingerbread house competitions and decorating trees in the common room and singing Christmas carols on repeat with the choir. All of which was Julian’s doing.
A different kind of ache surfaced as she thought of him. Despite everything, she wished he was here now, if for nothing else than to enjoy the city with her.
Julian would have loved the way Christmas had crept across the boroughs.
He would have marveled at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, towering beneath the skyscrapers.
She could have taken him to Gingerbread Lane at the Chelsea Market.
They might have gone ice skating or walked Fifth Avenue to see the holiday window displays in Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s.
Or none of that.
Charlie stomped on a pile of slush and gritted her teeth when some of it ended up in her boots. She needed to stop thinking about Julian and things that would never happen.
She told herself that he just didn’t understand where her head was at, but maybe he just didn’t understand her.
Performing on this stage now could be her way to honor the dream Tom had for both of them.
And maybe, in some way, it would help assuage some of the guilt she was still carrying around.
If she could stand up there and say, I did it, Tom, then everything would hurt less.
The loss would finally start to make sense.
If Julian couldn’t understand why she had to do that, then leaving what could have been behind in Elm Springs had been for the best.
She hurried across Columbus Avenue and down the sidewalk, careful of the slushy pavement under her feet. She passed the large silver block letters that spelled out LINCOLN CENTER and headed for the main entrance of the building, yanking on one of the glass doors, finding it unlocked.
Inside, she was greeted by a security guard in a pale blue uniform. She showed him her ID, and he led her through a nondescript door before pointing her down a back hallway.
Charlie had only ever been in attendance here as an audience member. Now she was a guest. A performer!
A little thrill shot through her. A thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. The New York Philharmonic! She couldn’t believe she was about to stand onstage with them.
Charlie navigated the long hallway to a series of offices, stopping next to an open door. The nameplate read Damien McGuire—Program Director.
She knocked.
Damien glanced up from his computer, and his smile immediately put her at ease. “Charlie Ward,” he said, standing up to greet her. “You made it. I was worried you might have gotten caught in a bout of bad weather.”
“Actually, I just managed to miss it.”
He came forward, and she shook his hand. “Perfect timing. I think the orchestra was just starting to warm up.”
Charlie would have liked to have had a couple days in the city to settle in before starting rehearsals, but being thrown into the thick of things brought her back to her days of covering off-ensemble roles and filling understudy parts.
Sometimes these things were easier when you didn’t overthink anything.
All she had to do was pick up the sheet music and sing.
Damien guided her from the office. “I’ll walk you out and introduce you to our conductor.”
“That’d be great.”
“I think most of our other performers are here,” he said. “We’ll run through the program a bunch between now and the end of the month, in between everyone’s holiday time. That way you’re all ready to help usher in the new year.”
“I’m really excited,” Charlie said. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”
“We’re glad to have you.” Damien slipped through a door and onto a brightly lit stage filled with dozens of black chairs.
Charlie took a deep breath as familiarity settled over her.
The strings were circled around the conductor’s podium, the violinists tuning their instruments.
Behind them were the winds and then the brass, with the timpani, percussion, piano and harp filling the space.
Some of the musicians were already seated, reviewing their sheet music.
Others stood and chatted casually, their conversations carrying in low murmurs.
In a way, it felt like no time had passed. Standing among the musicians was like putting on her most comfortable shoes.
Then she spotted a group of people gathered at the far end of the stage. It was the other performers. Charlie recognized every single one of them. Their combined star power made her stomach churn.
There was Eleanor Hardy, one of theatre’s oldest and most endearing leading ladies; Dustin Brink, a former Phantom; the hilariously comedic Katie Parrish. And rounding them out was Annette McDonald, a soprano that Charlie had looked up to ever since she was a little girl.
She couldn’t believe she was sharing space with this crowd. Breathing the same air. Standing in front of the same mic stand. She was actually going to pass out. But first she needed to find something for them to autograph. Would that be weird?
Stare less, she told herself. Focus on the music. Be professional.
Tom would have had a good chuckle over her fangirling.
“Just let me go find our conductor,” Damien said, hurrying off.
Charlie waited there, taking everything in. But before she could get a hold of herself, Annette walked over.
Oh, God, Charlie thought. Charlie. Charlie Ward. Remember your own name. Do not make a fool of yourself!
“Hi there,” Annette called. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet.”
“Oh, trust me,” Charlie said. “I know who you are.” Annette reached her hand out, and Charlie shook it. “I am a very big fan.”
Annette smiled sweetly. “Well, you’ve made a fan of me, too. I thought your performance with the Glendale Shakers was wonderful.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “You saw that video?”
“Multiple times. My daughters showed it to me. What a special thing you were able to accomplish. I was so impressed. I hope I’m as vibrant and full of energy at their age.”
“They are pretty special,” Charlie agreed. She was touched by Annette’s comments and a little amazed that they were having this conversation in the first place. She was also very aware that she had this opportunity because of the choir. She owed them a lot, and a flash of guilt surged through her.
But the choir was in good hands. They had Gram and Julian at the helm.
“How’d you get involved?” Annette asked.
“Oh, er… My grandmother moved into the retirement community,” Charlie explained. “I was actually helping her get settled and ran into an old friend who works as the activities director there.” Much more than a friend? “Next thing I knew I was directing a choir.”
Annette laughed. “Isn’t that how we stumble upon the best things in life? By chance?”
Charlie’s answer got caught in her throat. She cleared it, but before she could say anything else, Damien was calling them over. He introduced Charlie to the conductor, the musicians took their places, and then they jumped right into the music.
Watching the others perform in this relaxed atmosphere was such a treat.
Charlie did her best to soak up every second of Annette’s soaring vocals and Katie’s wisecracks to the conductor.
She was so enthralled watching them perform that she almost missed her cue to center stage.
She hurried out, adjusted the mic and gave the conductor a small nod when she was ready.
He flicked his baton, and Charlie’s insides trembled as the music swelled behind her.
It was nerves, certainly, and something else as she looked out at that nonexistent crowd.
Empty theater seats stared back at her. Tom truly would have been in awe standing here, so why wasn’t she more excited?
Why had everything inside her suddenly gone cold?
She searched for the thrill she’d had earlier, for the flutter of dancing butterflies.
She reminded herself that she was performing alongside the Annette McDonald, but all she could find was the dull beat of her heart.
Behind her, the music rang clear, and her voice soared.
It should have filled that empty space inside her chest. This, here and now, was for Tom.
But her notes fell flat as the song came to a close. She winced at the mistake.
“Excellent,” the conductor was saying, but Charlie knew it was far from excellent. She had to pull it together if she was going to stand onstage with this caliber of people and do Tom justice.
“Can we…” She cleared her throat. “Could we run it again? I just…” She gave an awkward smile. “It’s been a minute.”
“Of course,” the conductor said, cueing up the orchestra again.
Charlie closed her eyes, letting the sound fill her until there was nothing else but the glide of the strings and the hum of the winds and the shimmering notes from the horns.
The music echoed through her, seeping between her bones as she tried to latch onto the feeling of contentment she’d once found onstage.
“Let’s get those lights tested,” Damien called to one of the tech workers at the back of the hall.