Summary Erik Bohm, pianist extraordinaire, had wowed audiences around the world since he was a child. As he entered his 30s he abandoned the keyboard—no explanations offered.
Alexandra (Alex) Traynor grew up in awe of Erik's musical mastery and, along with the rest of his fans, continues to wonder what caused him to suddenly change careers.
Erik, now conducting the Philharmonic of the Americas, and Alex, arts manager and coordinator of the group's upcoming European tour, spend a lot of time together. Something more than a client/agent relationship is developing, but for some reason Erik, a notorious ladies man, isn't taking the next step.
As he and his orchestra head off to Europe, Alex is left to struggle with her own uncertainties and the mystery surrounding the great Maestro.
Excerpt
The spacious entry foyer utterly reeked of money, its marble floors and walls, crystal chandeliers, and silk upholstered chairs only a prelude to the elegance lying beyond, behind the ballroom doors. Halfway between New York City and Albany, the celebrated estate The Willows has graced the western banks of the Hudson River since the days of Teddy Roosevelt.
The Balfourt family’s oil fortune built, opulently furnished, and has lovingly maintained its family mansion and vast property throughout all the ensuing decades. Once inside the front door visitors find themselves in the world of the early 1900’s but soon discover a few welcome and very important concessions to modern life—up-to-date bathrooms and air conditioning.
Alex slipped through one of the French doors leading into the ballroom and sat on the nearest gilt chair. An enormous sparkling chandelier hung from the highest point of the vaulted ceiling and crystal wall sconces graced the spaces between the floor-to-ceiling arched windows. That day the room would have been unbearably bright without the heavy cream-colored silk drapes that were closed against the blazing mid-day sun of a late June heat wave.
The old world atmosphere sparked her imagination and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift away in a flight of fancy, seeing herself in a black velvet evening gown with a long sweeping train, diamonds sparkling at her throat and highlighting her upswept long dark hair. Walking slowly across the room, through a gathering of elegantly attired guests, she is aware that everyone’s eyes are following her progress. A hand grasps her arm and she feels a tingling excitement, an anticipation of something momentous . . . someone momentous . . . about to enter her life. Her heart beats faster in anticipation as she turns to her captor.
“No, not you! Anyone but you, Erik,” she snapped. “Why can’t I get you out of my head? Leave me alone!” Suddenly, needing to escape, she turned toward the door, scolding herself, “Alexandra Traynor, stop doing this to yourself! He walked out of your life weeks ago.” Her agitated search for an opening through the doorway drapes developed into a series of pokes and swats, one of which landed squarely against a body. She stepped back in surprise.
“What are you trying to do, kill the old man?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. DeMott. I couldn’t find the opening and . . .”
Her boss held the curtain open for her, joking, “. . . and obviously the bloody ghost of this house was grasping at your throat and you were madly fighting him off.” The look in her eyes, a look he had wondered about for the past few weeks, had been deepened by her losing battle with the decor. “This is the perfect scene for a murder, Alex. In a hurry to find out if you inherit my business?”
Her answer, lost in the greetings of several arriving musicians from the Philharmonic of the Americas, would forever remain a mystery. Rehearsals in this haven from New York City had progressed through the past week in final preparation for a European tour that would commence the next night. Alex and DeMott had journeyed up from the city to eavesdrop on the final rehearsal.
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