Page 28 of Forever Full Circle
Emily blinked, letting the new information rearrange her entire model of the world. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Chantelle made a face—somewhere between embarrassment and pride. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal. If I messed up, I could just delete it.”
Emily felt her heart squeeze. “Can I listen to one?”
After a long pause, Chantelle slid her phone out of the hoodie pocket, thumbed the screen a few times, and handed it over. The username was something random, and the display picture was a blurry close-up of a cat’s nose. Emily scrolled to a recording labeled “Demo 3” and hit play.
The song was rough, the sound tinny, but the melody was unmistakably Chantelle: bright and a little anxious, with lyrics that didn’t shy away from weird metaphors or wordplay. It was all the more moving for its flaws.
When it ended, Emily handed the phone back, careful not to let her hands shake. “You sound amazing,” she said. “I mean it.”
Chantelle tucked her chin, smile a quirk at the edge of her lips. “The people online say it’s okay. They like the bridge, usually.”
Emily leaned back, letting the window seat’s padding cradle her. “You know,” she said, “if you ever want to do a real recording session, I bet Dad could set something up. He’s got good microphones for the conference speakers.”
Chantelle considered, then shrugged, but not in a way that meant no. “Maybe.”
A few rooms away, Daniel’s voice rumbled. He was in Charlotte’s room.Must have stopped on his way up,Emily thought. The happy sound of the baby’s laughter was a reassurance.
“If we get the lighthouse,” Chantelle asked suddenly, “would you let me invite some of the people from the website? The ones who help with the music stuff? Not, like, strangers-strangers, but the ones who aren’t creepy?”
Emily’s first impulse was protective—strangers, the internet, the possibility of some disaster. But underneath that, a curiosity. “You want to host them? For workshops, or…?”
Chantelle nodded, then pulled her phone from her pocket again, already scrolling. “There’s this girl from Minneapolis who plays six instruments, and this other kid my age who makes beats but also likes jazz, and I thought—if we had the space, and the equipment, we could do a real camp. Like, our own version of Boston. Just smaller. We could live-stream concerts from the lantern room. Maybe raise money for the restoration.”
Emily felt her heart leap—a strange, youthful kind of hope—and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “That’s actually brilliant.”
Chantelle’s eyes flicked up, surprised by the lack of resistance. “Really?”
“Really,” Emily said, the word a little shaky. “Listen, Chantie, what if we brought the Boston experience toyou, at least for now?”
The effect was immediate. Chantelle’s whole posture changed—she stood and bounced on the balls of her feet, fingers dancing across the phone as she opened a new note, started making a list. “We could call it The Beacon Summit, or something less dorky. You know, play off the lighthouse. Oh, and we could ask Roman to invite his friends, too. He’d do it, I bet.”
Emily tried to picture it: the lantern room packed with mismatched folding chairs, teenagers with instrument cases slung over their shoulders, the air buzzing with ambition and cheap pizza and the awkwardness of first meetings.
“It’ll take a lot of work. Insurance, chaperones, probably a ton of fundraising.”
Chantelle suddenly looped her arms around Emily in an abrupt, bone-tight hug. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered.
Emily wrapped her own arms around the narrow back, pulling her daughter close. She felt the roughness of the hoodie, the subtle scent of shampoo and graphite and something sweet. For a moment, she let her eyes close and just held on. When she opened them, there were tears. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, she hugged a little harder.
Chantelle squirmed, embarrassed by the extra squeeze but not truly fighting it. The moment was interrupted by the creak of the kitchen door swinging open, and Daniel stepped in, a tired expression on his face. Roy followed closely behind him, lookingdrawn and serious. Emily and Chantelle parted, and Emily stood.
The tension from Emily and Daniel’s earlier argument was where Emily’s mind immediately went, but before Emily could say anything, Daniel closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a tight hug. It was a silent apology, ad she hugged back, giving hers.
“We’ll talk late,” Daniel whispered as he pulled back.
Chantelle sprung up and hugged Daniel, and then Roy,already halfway out the door. “I’m gonna text Laverne,” she said, “and tell her we’re starting a music revolution.”
Daniel looked at Emily.
“Long story. Later, too. You guys have a good day at the shop?”
“A bit of a tough one,” Daniel said. “I did convince this one to sit most of the day.” He jerked a thumb toward Roy.
Roy cleared his throat, his gaze flickering between Emily and Daniel. “Sorry, Dad, you want something to eat? We had leftovers, but I can cook if you—"
“No,” he interrupted. Then, he shuffled slightly “Actually, Em, can we speak in private?" Roy’s voice was low.
