Love in E Flat

Love in

E Flat

Kate Sweeney

Love in E Flat

© 2012 by Kate Sweeney

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 13: 978-1-935216-45-2

First Printing: 2012

This Trade Paperback Is Published By

Intaglio Publications

Walker, LA USA

www.intagliopub.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

_______________________________________________

Credits

Executive Editor: Tara Young

Cover design by Tiger Graphics

Dedication

I’d like to dedicate this book to my good friend, Agata, or Aggie as I call her. I remember the nights at her restaurant, sitting in “our corner” of the bar with Mena, another dear friend, till all hours drinking wine and talking of love and sex (thank God those sessions were not recorded), of life, and her four beautiful girls. She spoke many times of her life in Poland as a young girl; this was the inspiration for
Love in E Flat
.

We have shared wonderful happy memories in that restaurant. Thanks, Aggie.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank the woods in my backyard. They have given me such peace and inspiration. Nothing beats having a cup of coffee while watching the sun shine through the trees on a summer morning. Then, of course, it gets ungodly hot here in southeast Louisiana, and I have to go in, but what the hell, you get what I’m saying…

Chapter 1

“Not in this lifetime.”

Edie Trent walked around to stand in front of her dear but irritating friend Louisa Preston, who now shook her head vehemently, as if what she had said wasn’t enough. Edie begged her. “Lou, please?”

“I’m going to be busy.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You don’t even know when it is.”

“Now you understand.” Lou winced and stepped back. “No, Edie. C’mon, don’t look at me like that. I don’t want to go listen to a boring band.”

Edie glared. “It’s the Chicago Symphony at Orchestra Hall, not the Notre Dame marching band, you idiot. I don’t want to go by myself. John can’t get away from work—”

“That’s what he says.” Lou smiled grudgingly. “What about after work?”

Edie smiled, as well. “He has a doctor’s appointment.”

Lou nodded. “Sorry. How…um…how is that going?”

Edie sighed and sat back. “I don’t know. We should know after the tests. If it’s not me, it has to be John.” She chuckled sadly; Lou winced when she saw the tears well in Edie’s eyes as she looked up. “Who knew having kids would be so hard?”

Lou scratched the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I know how much you guys are trying.”

“Well, we’ll just have to keep on having an enormous amount of sex, that’s all. Work, work, work…” They both laughed.

“You poor girl.”

“I know. Now what about the concert? You know, anybody else would kill for a ticket to see this.”

Lou snorted. “Let me just kill myself, and we’ll call it even.” She waved her hand, and Edie pulled at her arm when she started for her desk. “Let me go, you temptress. I said no.” Lou turned and looked at Edie; her shoulders slumped. “Oh, what time and when?”

“Tomorrow night. We’ll have dinner first—”

“Which you will buy.”

“Which I will buy. We’ll go to The Gage. I’ll make the reservation for six-ish.”

“Good, then I can be well-liquored first.”

Edie laughed and hugged Lou. “Thanks, Lou. I mean it. I have an interview for the weekend edition.” She pulled back. “Hey, don’t you have a Loyola game to cover?”

Lou looked at her watch. “Damn it. I’m gonna be late talking to you. Damn it.” She grabbed her coat and ran past Edie. “If I miss any of that game. It’s the preseason holiday tournament, you…Hell, Edie, they’re playing DePaul…” As she dashed around her desk, she ran full tilt into her editor.

Edie winced when Ron Dawson barked, “Preston! What the hell are you still doing here?”

Lou rolled her eyes. “Being a sucker. Don’t worry. I’ll make it.” She picked up her laptop bag and ran out.

“You’d better,” Ron called after her; he turned to Edie. “She’s lucky she’s a good writer.”

Edie patted him on the shoulder. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Ron. It’s a God-given talent.”

Ron grunted. “God-given talent and never meets a deadline. What’s she being a sucker for?”

“Me. She’s going to the concert with me tomorrow night.”

Ron let out a barking laugh, nearly coughing up a lung. “Preston at a concert? Does she know it’s not Wrigley Field and she can’t wear shorts and a mustard-stained T-shirt?” He stopped laughing, and his eyes grew wide. “She knows this is black tie, right?”

Edie cringed when Ron laughed again. “She will when I tell her.”

“This I gotta see,” Ron said, walking back to his office. “You’re on your own, Trent.”

“It’s just a concert. I’m not trying to steal her soul, for god’s sake.”

“Better that than getting her in evening attire.” He shook his head. “I suppose we are the lucky ones. That woman is a gifted writer, you’re correct there.”

“Well, lucky or not, we should be eternally grateful she chose the
Sentinel
instead of the
Tribune
.” Edie laughed. “That woman could be writing columns for the
Chicago Tribune
. I’m telling you, it’s a God-given talent.”

“I know. We are lucky. A God-given talent who can never meet a deadline.” He sighed deeply and laughed. “Well, you let me know how it turns out.”

Edie bit at her bottom lip. She’d known Louisa Preston for nearly twenty years. The realization made her painfully rub her forehead. How hard could this be?

It would be hard—very hard.

Chapter 2

“No.” Lou watched as her oldest friend in the world Edie walked around her desk and stood in front of her. Lou grinned. “Uh-oh. As Yogi said, ‘it’s déjà vu all over again.’ Didn’t we have this dance last night?”

“Stop quoting your beloved baseball heroes. Do not tell me you have nothing formal to wear.”

Lou bit into a greasy bacon cheeseburger, then struck a thoughtful pose as she chewed. “Well, I have a dark pantsuit.”

Edie grimaced as she watched Lou eat. “Have you ever heard of pink slime?”

Poised for another bite, Lou glowered as Edie laughed. “A dark pantsuit? That’s fine.”

“I wore it last year for a funeral.”

Edie hung her head. “And you haven’t worn it since?”

“Don’t be silly. Nobody’s died since. Why in the world would I wear it?”

“Keys.” Edie held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll take it to the dry cleaner.”

Lou raised an eyebrow and took another healthy bite of her bacon cheeseburger before fishing the keys out of her jeans pocket. “They do that in a day?”

“I’m a good customer. They’ll do anything for me.”

Lou snorted and tossed the keys. “Well, you bring your blue jeans in to be dry-cleaned. Hell, that’s un-American.” She slurped her milkshake through the straw.

“Will you quit eating that crap? Your arteries—”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Trent. The suit is in the back of the closet. Ya can’t miss it. It’s the one covered in dust. Easy starch.”

She laughed as Edie mumbled to herself as she walked out of the office. Edie was a good friend, helped Lou through many girlfriends and many heartaches, which were not only limited to women. She reached down and rubbed her left knee, feeling the scar through the denim. Shaking her head to dispel the images, she then ate the remaining cheeseburger and fries. She crumpled the greasy paper and tossed it in the wastebasket across two desks. As the bag hit its mark, she raised both hands and cheered in a hissed whisper, “And the crowd goes wild.” She looked around the empty office. “And I’m alone.”

After she wiped her hands on her jeans, she got to work on the story of the previous night’s game. It was a good game, with two old schools battling it out. Loyola University barely won against the DePaul Blue Demons. Both Chicago schools had a good rivalry somewhat like the college version of the Cubs and the White Sox. That was a good comparison, she thought, and started typing away at her keyboard.

As usual, she took no notes, had no idea what she would write. It just happened. Once she started typing, her mind took over and her fingers had a mind of their own. And before she knew it, the story had been written. Who would think this was what she’d be doing at this point in her life? She sat back, remembering her mother’s words:
A door closes, Louisa, and a window opens somewhere. Look for that window, sweetie, and take a breath of fresh air and start over. You’ll find your way.

For a moment, she stared at the keyboard with her fingers on the keys, and the familiar ache in her heart started. She took a deep resolved breath and began typing again. She had no clue how much time had gone by when she felt someone standing behind her. It was Ron, reading over her shoulder.

“Should I move?” She sat back. “I could…”

Ron impatiently held up his hand. “Shut up, I’m trying to read.”

Lou shook her head and leaned to the side to give him more room and waited until he finished.

“I will give you this, Preston. You have a way with words.” He laughed and handed her an icy bottle of beer. “It was just a Christmas charity basketball game, but you made them sound like Roman gladiators. You romantic jackass.”

Lou laughed and opened the beer. “What’s the occasion?” she asked, holding up the bottle.

Ron sat in front of her desk. “Circulation…”

“That’s wonderful news. And we all thought it was ice water flowing through your veins.” Lou batted her eyelashes with a grin.

“Again…jackass. For your information, the circulation of the newspaper is up thirty percent. It’s because of you. So this is your bonus.” He held up his beer.

“Ah, who needs money?” Lou said and took a long drink.

Ron laughed. “You’ll get that when we start raking in more advertisers.”

“No worries, Ron. You pay me well enough.”

Ron watched her for a moment, almost to the point of making Lou uncomfortable. He grinned as if sensing her angst. “You could have gone to the
Trib
. I won’t ask you why, but I’m grateful to you, Preston. Truly I am.” He stood before she could say anything. “Now get that on my desk by the end of the day.”

Lou nodded, and no other words were spoken as he walked away. But when he dropped the empty beer bottle in her wastebasket, she felt his hand linger on her shoulder for just a moment.

Why hadn’t she taken the job at the
Chicago Tribune
? Hell, she thought, it was one of the biggest newspapers in the country. Certainly, the offer was good. Why did she pick this small local paper with a fraction of the customers?

“Better to be a big fish in a little pond?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure, or was she?

*******

“You look very nice,” Edie said.

“I think I put on a few pounds since the funeral.” Lou groaned and unbuttoned the jacket as she sat at the table. “This place is expensive, Edie.”

“Shut up. The paper is buying.”

“Okay, okay.” She picked up the menu, her eyes bugging out of her head as she read. “This is really too expensive. Are you sure we should charge this to the paper?”

“Ron told me to,” Edie said as she examined the menu. “He said something about a bonus.”

Lou grinned. “That was nice of him.” She looked up to see Luke, with book in hand, as he stood by the table.

“Edie, how wonderful to see you again. You’re dining alone this evening?” he asked, glancing at Lou.

Lou frowned and looked around the restaurant. Edie laughed. “Yes. John had to work late.”

Lou offered a smug grin. Luke raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Who could afford this dump?” Lou asked with a grin.

Luke’s dark eyes narrowed. It struck Lou how hopelessly handsome Luke truly was. Tall and willowy, he had jet-black hair styled short and neat, no facial hair, and perfectly trimmed dark eyebrows that Liz Taylor would envy. Lou always wondered if he had them waxed. He wore the starched white shirt, black tie, and black apron, which all the servers wore—Luke just wore it better. His barely detectable Dublin accent didn’t hurt. Luke Braxton was gay, and he loved it. Lou inwardly smiled; she liked Luke and loved to banter with him, though she’d never let him know that.

“Are you still wasting your talents writing about sweaty athletes?”

“Among others. Do you like sports, Luke?”

“You know perfectly well I find them barbaric,” he said, winking at Edie.

“Except when Roger plays,” Edie said absently.

“True.” Luke sighed dreamily.

“Do you read, Luke?” Lou asked sweetly.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “A refill on your cocktail? What are you drinking—a splash of hemlock?”

“Bourbon…”

“Hmm. How mundane,” he said and scribbled on his pad. “Edie, another martini, dear? Bleu cheese olives?” He picked up the empty glasses. “I’ll be back for your order.”

“Thanks, Luke. We can’t sit too long. We’re going to Orchestra Hall.”

Luke stopped and put his hand to his heart. “Oh, my God. You have tickets? She’s going to be there tonight, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Edie said with equal enthusiasm. “And I got the interview.”

Luke nearly screeched. “No! I’m so jealous.” He looked down at Lou. “You’re not taking Lou with you? This, this sportscaster?”

“Writer,” Lou corrected him.

Luke waved her off. “Does she have any idea?” He motioned to Lou.

“No.”

“Hey,” Lou tapped her fork on the table, “I’m here, ya know.”

Edie laughed as Luke scurried off. “I’ll order if you don’t mind, Lou. We are in a hurry.”

Lou set the menu down. “That’s fine with me. If anybody knows my appetite, it’s you.”

“Yes.” Edie continued to look over the menu. “Old college days of mac and cheese.”

“And beer. So who’s got Luke all a-twitter?”

“A musician. You wouldn’t know.” She looked up. “She doesn’t wear a jersey with a number on it.”

“Hardy-har.”

Luke returned with their drinks and took out his pad and pen. “Okay, let me have it.”

Lou snorted; Luke ignored her.

“We’ll start off with the mussels and the escargot…” She ignored Lou’s groan. “Lou will have the aged rib-eye, and I’ll have the salmon. Mashed potatoes and the Brussels sprouts with the brie and bacon.”

“Excellent. And a wine?” Luke took the menus.

“Cabernet would be fine.”

Luke looked at Lou. “And how would you like your steak prepared?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he held his hand up. “Don’t tell me. Just rip off a hunk and swipe it over the coals.”

Lou glared at his John Wayne imitation. “Medium rare will be just fine, thanks.”

He chuckled and patted her on the shoulder as he walked away. “You’re fun to play with.”

“So is this musician famous?” Lou asked.

“Well, let’s see who you’d know.” Edie struck a thoughtful pose for a moment. “She’s somewhere between Michael Jordan and Oprah.”

“Impressive. You Chicago highbrows must be excited.” Lou placed her napkin in her lap, then picked up her bourbon.

“As much as you lowbrows would be if say, oh…” Edie grinned. “If Mike Discus came back to town.”

“Discus?” Lou laughed, nearly spilling her drink. “It’s Ditka, you dope. My God, you’re married to a football player. You don’t make a mistake like that about the only coach who led the Bears to a Super Bowl win in the past twenty-some years. It could get you killed.”

“Oh. Well, you get my drift.”

*******

“That was the biggest steak I’ve ever eaten. It’ll take a week for that to pass through my colon.” Lou patted her stomach as they walked the two blocks to Orchestra Hall on Michigan Avenue. “And what’s the big idea of letting me drink so much wine?”

“Well, I couldn’t. Not with the interview. You’re welcome, though.”

“Thank you. And thanks for dinner.” Lou chuckled, feeling a little light-headed; she shivered. “It’s getting chilly.”

“Are you all right? God, you’re not drunk, are you?”

“Of course not. I ate too much, and I could use a nap. Thank God for this concert,” she said with a yawn.

“You’re like John. Here we are. Now you wait here. I’ll go pick up our passes.”

Lou looked around. “This isn’t the front entrance?”

“For god’s sake. No, we get to go backstage.”

She heard the excitement in Edie’s voice. “Oh, for joy! What fun! I’m so excited,” Lou said, clasping her hands over her heart. “Backstage with the band. Are we groupies? Maybe she’ll autograph my bra.”