Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

"Why are you so dressed tonight?" Agnes asked suspiciously. I told her I had to return to the school for a special piano lesson and there might be some people there to listen. I mentioned that I had to do some work on a term paper, too. Trisha played along by complaining about the assignments, flashing conspiratorial glances at me from time to time. I almost got caught in my lie on the way out when Agnes noticed I didn't have any books in my hands.

"I'm just reading and gathering information at the library tonight," I told her quickly. "I'm working with another girl." She accepted my explanation and I left.

Michael lived in a fancy apartment house. The lobby had a gold marble floor, red leather sofas and chairs, glass tables in brass frames and a long box filled with bright flowers and plants. A doorman showed me to the elevator, and my finger trembled with excitement as I pressed on Michael's door buzzer. A moment later he appeared dressed in a beautiful charcoal-gray suit made of the softest cashmere wool I had ever seen or felt.

"Hi," he said. "Very prompt. My other guests should take lessons," he added and stepped back.

His apartment was luxurious, from the marble entryway to the sunken living room in which he had a circular silk sofa, a large glass-top table in a black metal frame, and an enormous fireplace. The floor was covered with a deep, soft, marshmallow-white rug. The floor-to-ceiling windows were hung with off-white satin drapes. Right now, they were pulled back to provide an unobstructed view of the night skyline.

I stepped into the living room and instantly recognized the music playing on the stereo to be Tchaikovsky's "Sleeping Beauty."

"What a beautiful apartment," I said.

"Thank you. A little home away from home," he said, closing the door behind me. "You didn't tell anyone you were coming here, did you?" he asked, squinting with concern.

"Oh, no."

"Good." He smiled and indicated I should have a seat on the couch.

"I shouldn't offer you any cocktails," he said, following behind me, "but I guess I can give you a little white wine. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes," I said.

"Just make yourself comfortable."

I went to the center of the sofa and sat down. I was so nervous I didn't know what to do with my hands. First, I folded them on my lap. Then I thought that looked silly, made me look like a school girl at her desk, so I put my right arm over the back of the sofa and dropped my left over my lap. I crossed and uncrossed my legs.

"You look very nice," Michael said, bringing me my glass of wine.

"Thank you." I took the glass with both hands, afraid that my trembling would cause me to spill some on the sofa.

"Actually," he said, sitting beside me, "I'm glad you arrived before the others. It gives me a chance to get to know you even better without any distractions." He took a sip from whatever he had in his glass and put the glass on the coaster on the table. Then he leaned so close to me, we were practically touching.

"Let's see," he continued, that impish glint returning to his sapphire-blue eyes. "I know you attended a private school in Richmond and you sang a solo there at the spring musical and you were a spectacular success."

"I was just one of many people performing that night," I said.

"Uh, huh. And then your family realized you were talented and sent you to Bernhardt. Do you miss being away from home?"

"No," I said, perhaps too quickly. He raised his eyebrows. Then he nodded to himself.

"That's right. You were away from home when you went to that private school, but you're not with your br

other and sister anymore. Doesn't that bother you?"

"We don't get along that well," I said, unable to hide a smirk.

"I understand. I don't get along that well with my two brothers. We rarely see each other and they never come to any of my performances. You're lucky to have a family that's at least supportive," he said. "It's paid off; they've raised a very nice young lady, as well as a talented one."

"Thank you," I said, but it was nearly inaudible and I couldn't keep the tears from breaking free of my lids.

"Something wrong?"

I bowed my head as the tears streaked down my cheeks and dropped off my chin. I hated all this deception, all these lies. Michael was so sincere and so devoted to his singing and had been so wonderful to me, making me feel so special, and here I was telling him one false thing after another.

He reached out and lifted my chin.

"Dawn?"