Page 9 of Unraveling Fate

“What? No!”

She turned the key again, but the car didn’t respond. No engine, no lights, nothing. Her heart jumped into her throat. The Ferrari was obviously special to Drostan, that was why she wanted to fix it. Had she re-broken it instead?

“Crap, crap, crap, mannaggia la miseria, crap, crap.” Cadenza shifted to neutral and jumped out of the car to push it back to the garage, hoping the noise of her escapade on the track hadn’t woken Drostan.

Four

27 Aug 2019

31 Days and $3300 to go…not counting living expenses… Mamma Mia.

Champagne flutes tinkled. The chandelier glazed the windows with gold. Beautiful people wandered from the steamy conservatory to the formal gardens and back. Cadenza had never heard of a black-tie garden party, but Canon’s backer pulled it off with style.

Canon circled her through the party, introducing her to everyone.

“I can’t believe your smile isn’t tired yet,” she said after the first hour. She was ready for Netflix and turtle chocolates.

Canon laughed. “We’re not done yet. My lead benefactor—my mentor, really—is out in the garden, I want you to meet him.”

A circular patio, sprinkled with wrought-iron chairs, spread between the open conservatory doors and the gardens. Potted plumeria trees lined the edge of the patio, whispering a soft tune like pan flutes. A hot breeze shivered a song up Cadenza’s arm, and the marble patio hummed. Canon moved through the gueststowards a man in a tailored grey suit and light pink cravat at the far end of the patio.

Cadenza let him go ahead while she clutched the back of one of the patio chairs. She drew a breath. One more. She could do one more.Actually, more than that,she corrected herself. She hadn’t met the Sacramento Philharmonic and Opera people yet. This part—the mingle-small-talk part—she’d never mastered. The lack of sleep from manhandling the Ferrari last night wasn’t helping her social graces either.

Her reflection in the conservatory windows caught her eye. Her dark hair was swept up off her neck, her deep blue gown moved with her figure like an aura, and she’d shelled out the money to get her nails done to hide the oil stains. She knew shelookedlike one of these beautiful people. What would it feel like tobeone of them? What would the music sound like when she was the successful star with the power to grant opportunities to young artists?

Try as she might, she couldn’t hear that song.

Her ear fluttered uncomfortably, as if it had water in it. She frowned, tugging on her earlobe. The pan flute of the plumeria suddenly dropped out of the earthsong, and just as quickly rushed back at full volume. Cadenza gripped the chair harder, dizzy.

“Cadenza,” Canon called, beckoning her to where he visited with the gray-suited man.

She straightened and pulled her attention back to the party.Get it together, Cadenza. Just a few more.And you, behave.She shot a glare at the earth on her way over to Canon and his companion.

Canon made the introductions. “Vasilios, I’d like to introduce Cadenza Cavalieri, who graciously agreed to make me look good this evening.” He turned back to her. “Cadenza, this is Vasilios Pearce, the man who graciously agreed to put me in office.”

“A pleasure, Ms. Cavalieri.” Canon’s mentor spoke with a slight accent that Cadenza couldn’t quite place. Every detail of his appearance, from his classically styled hair to the silver-tipped walking stick, to the way he bent over her proffered hand as if he was going to kiss it, spoke of old money.

Cadenza fixed a smile in place and took a breath to answer.

Sound stopped.

The song of the breeze vanished from her arms. The plumeria trees fell silent. The marble’s hum evaporated beneath her feet, and her stomach lurched like she’d been dropped off a cliff.

Head spinning, she fell back into a chair. The earthsong rushed back in just as the plumeria had done a minute before.

Canon knelt beside the chair and gripped her arm. “Are you ok?”

Cadenza blushed, mortified.

“Yes, I’m so sorry.” She set her champagne on the ground. “Maybe too much of that? And the heat…”

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ms. Cavalieri?” Mr. Pearce asked, all solicitation. “We could find you a quiet place to lie down.”

“No, no. Thank you.” She waved away the concern, pushing out of the chair. “I’m fine.” The last thing she needed was to faint where the Sacramento Opera people might see her.

He peered at her a moment longer, then clapped his hands together. “Very well then. In that case, I believe there are some people from our lovely capital’s opera that want to meet you.” He turned towards the rose garden but pulled up short. A petite woman in pearls and raw silk and a stout man in a black suit coat stood behind him.

“Ah, and here they have found us.” Mr. Pearce beamed a smile and introduced the woman. “Ms. Allen, Chairwoman of the Sacramento Philharmonic and Opera Board, and Mr. Blanchet, of the board.”