Page 115 of Resisting the Fall

“Who is that?” Ben asked.

“Jean-Paul.” I dropped the phone into my lap. “I’m surprised we have service up here.”

“It’s pretty spotty, but every once in a while, a text or call will come through.” His gaze returned to my phone. “Do you need to take it?”

I shook my head. “Honestly, at this point, he’s probably just calling to say good-bye and good riddance.”

“What if it’s about the audition?”

The timing made sense. My heart gave a traitorous lift at Ben’s question, but I shrugged. “Then it’s about the audition. I probably didn’t get it anyway.”

Though I’d never gotten a personal call from Jean-Paul with the news I’d been cut. Just a generic email from the New York Philharmonic thanking me for my interest and explaining the difficult choice of selecting a musician to fill the vacant seat before sharing that I was not that musician. I pulled up my email, but the page wouldn’t refresh. Apparently, the service was too spotty for that. But not too spotty for a voice message notification to come through. I could feel Ben’s gaze on me.

“It’s going to drive you crazy until you listen,” he said.

It was true. I might as well get it over with. I clicked the voicemail and put the phone to my ear, not brave enough to play it on speakerphone.

“Hey, Maven. Sorry I haven’t replied to your email yet. I’ve been contemplating how best to respond, but I just received word and thought you should know, before your plans are too settled. You’ve moved on to the final round of auditions for the New York Philharmonic, along with only two other violinists. The audition is set for Monday, November 2nd, at 2 pm at David Geffen Hall.” Jean-Paul paused. “Maven, this is an opportunity you may never get again. I suggest you at least take it and see what happens before finalizing any plans. Call me if you’d like to chat.”

I lowered the phone, my mind trying to process Jean-Paul’s message.

Ben handed me a plate and sat down in the other chair, his gaze on me. “You made it to the final round, didn’t you?”

My gaze lifted to his, and I nodded. “I’ll email them when we’re back in Autumn Ridge and let them know I won’t be coming. I’m sure they’ll have an alternate.”

“Maven, I think⁠—”

“Ben, I’m not going.”

He set his gaze back on his plate.

I took a bite of fish, letting the buttery goodness melt in my mouth. “We should play a card game after dinner,” I said, my voice too upbeat. “Maybe we could make it a little more interesting by adding in an element of truth or dare?”

Ben looked hesitant to allow the conversation to move on, but with my continued smirk in his direction, a smile found its way to his lips. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“I’ve always loved your overconfidence,” I teased. “It’s super attractive.”

“Is that right?” Ben slid his hat backward, knowing full well what he was doing.

Oh, my word! That man was in for some trouble!

Bennett

I’m not sure at what point staring at another person while they sleep becomes not okay, but I’d probably hit that limit a while ago. Maven was curled into a ball on the bed next to me, hoarding the covers like a blanket-collecting squirrel making a nest around herself. With the chill in the air, I’d grabbed an extra blanket but hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. I kept thinking about Maven making the final round of auditions for the New York Philharmonic.

She’d said she wasn’t going, and I believed she was stubborn enough not to, but the niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach made me think I should press her a little harder. Selfishly, I didn’t want to. I wanted to accept that it was her choice and be done with it. And I probably would if it was any other opportunity, but this was the New York Philharmonic. This was not only her dream but the culminating opportunity of all her years of hard work and dedication. Would I really sit idly by while she turned down the chance to attend the final audition? To at least see what happened?

It wasn’t like there weren’t other musicians vying for that same seat. What were the odds Maven would be the one to get it? One in ten? One in twenty? Besides, she had auditioned three other times without even advancing to the final round. All of my worrying was likely for nothing.

As if in response to my conclusion, my mind conjured up the memory of Maven playing yesterday after we’d arrived here at the river. She’d wanted to see how it felt to swap a concert hall for the great outdoors, and it had been a new sort of mesmerizing. With her eyes closed, her fingers moving effortlessly over the fingerboard, and her body swaying with the strokes of her bow, she’d exchanged stage lights for the glimmer of water and the echo of an auditorium for the sound of her music bouncing off the mountains. Okay, maybe the chances of her winning the seat were better than statistics allowed, but I was clearly biased.

Maven released a light hum, pulling my attention back to her. I brushed the hair from her face, and her eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” She gave a contented smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

Her eyes closed again, like her automated system had been triggered and that was still too early. “How’d you sleep?” she mumbled.

“Good. Until you stole all the blankets.”