At dinner downstairsat the café, I was seated next to James. Noisy with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of silverware, I strained to hear the conversation. The chairs were made of wrought iron and pinched my back. Cigarette smoke disappeared into the night.
The Coopers had joined us for dinner. Paula was an athletic, ruddy-cheeked woman with a quality of robustness and pragmatism that reminded me of Cymbeline. However, she lacked the restlessness and physical beauty of our Cym. She seemed satisfied to be her husband’s partner without much of the attention on herself. I couldn’t imagine her craving attention or adventure. Alternately, Sebastian Cooper seemed hungry for the attention his wife had no need for. He dominated the discussion at dinner, which had veered toward literature. As far as I could tell, Sebastian Cooper was equally insecure and arrogant, a quality many artists possessed. We were self-confident and humble. Without both, we would not produce.
Sebastian had an opinion on many things, including books. My eyes glazed over and I only vaguely listened as he prattled on endlessly about the difference between Hemingway’s and Fitzgerald’s styles. He, apparently, was more of the Hemingway variety. “The barest minimum of words,” Sebastian said as he picked up his wineglass. “I must find the précis word, you see. And string it together with the next right word and so on until I have a story. All of which makes my work elegant in its simplicity.”
I could understand the concept. Some of the simplest musical arrangements were the most beautiful. I didn’t comment on this or anything else said at the table. I’d never been one to participate in chatter. Was it because I was different when I was little, speaking a foreign language only to my grandmother and sister? I don’t know. After I learned English and to speak as the Barnes children did, I continued to be more of an observer, commenting only in my mind. It wasn’t until later when I heard Fiona practicing her piano upstairs and I went up to investigate did I find my own way to communicate. Music became my language. The vehicle to express the endless swells in my own heart.
But now it was James West who required my attention. The conversations had broken off into groups. With the two of us being on one end of the table, it was mandated that we were to talk to each other. I glanced quickly at Fiona. She was absorbed in whatever it was Saffron was saying. With the ambient noise, I could only see Saffron’s lips moving and couldn’t make out what she said.
“It’s divine to finally meet you,” James said, leaning closer so that I had an even better view of his perfect teeth. “Fiona’s been excited for your arrival. Good of you to come, mate.”
I bristled. Who was this man to act as if he were Fiona’s confidant and best friend? That was my position. It was good I’d come. Fiona would have slipped away from me forever had I not.
Wait, I chastised myself. You’re the one who sent her away, the one who told her you didn’t love her and didn’t want her. You pushed her into the very scene before you.
“What will you do with your time here?” James asked.
“Fiona’s encouraged me to take lessons while I’m here,” I said. “Mostly, I’ll look after her.” Meaning, you are no longer needed.
“Yes, she mentioned that to me.” He tapped the table with all four of his masculine fingers. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.” He reached into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a card. “This is a friend of my father’s who teaches violin. Fiona asked if I could get you an audition with him. His address is here on the card. He said to come by sometime this week and he’ll listen to you play.”
I glanced at the name on the card and blinked several times to make sure I’d seen it correctly. “I’ve heard of him.” In musical circles, he was well-known for his master classes. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. Fiona’s done so much for me.”
“Is that right?”
He flushed and looked down at his plate, which now contained only the empty shells of oysters. Prehistoric with scales like an alligator, I’d thought when they brought them out to the table. How could something so ugly have contained such sweet nectar of the sea? “I suppose she mentioned about the loan?”
She had not mentioned any loan, but I nodded as if she had. Loan? She’d told me she was only buying him dinners.
“She was so good to offer it to me, knowing how tight things have been. I’ll pay her back once I’m with a publisher. Things will change for me soon.”
“Of course.”
“I know what you must think.” He glanced quickly at me before picking up his glass of the cold, dry white wine the waiter had brought with the oysters.
“I doubt that,” I said softly.
His eyes narrowed for a moment. He peered at me, seeking clues to my obtuse comment. If he only knew the complicated web of my thoughts, he would probably run from the table and never return. Perhaps I should tell him?
“My father has only homes he cannot afford to keep running,” James said. “For generations, we’ve been useless, without skills of any kind. I’m rectifying that. At least for myself. The editing position is a coveted one, I can assure you. Not a lucrative one at the moment, but once Sebastian’s book is out, my circumstances will drastically change. Then I’ll pay Fiona back everything I owe her and more.”
“I have every confidence you will,” I said. I had no confidence.
Fiona’s bubbly laugh rose above the noise of the café. She was listening with great attention to whatever it was the old windbag Sebastian was saying.
“Is his book that good?” I asked.
“It is.” James smirked and barked out a quick laugh. “I was surprised, too. He doesn’t make a great first impression, but there’s a talented man under all that bluster.”
“What are your intentions with Fiona?” I asked, matching his low volume. “I’m asking on behalf of her family.”
“We’re good friends.” His eyes lifted again briefly to take me in. I felt exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, as if he saw right through me. “What are your intentions?”
“She’s my best friend,” I said. “She’ll never leave Emerson Pass permanently. Not even for Paris.”
“We’ll see. She just might surprise you.” He lifted his glass and peered at me over the rim. “Will you surprise me as well?”
I didn’t want surprises. In fact, I hated surprises. “I’m not understanding your question,” I said.
“You’re here, Mr. Wu,” James said. “I believe that speaks volumes about your intentions, whether you’re ready to admit to them or not.”