I laughed at the worried crease in her forehead. "Not back to where we were last night. This place has a great reputation."
Ginny peered over my shoulder to where I pointed to my computer. "I've heard of that club. There's a five-star restaurant attached to it. Do you have a date?"
I snorted. "No. No thank you. I've got something better-an audition. Turns out the list that guy gave us last night led me to a forum where different bands can post for new members.
“There's a little combo that needs a singer. When I called, it all went well. I sang over the phone! And then they told me to meet them there tonight. I'm going to sing with them and see how it goes."
"You've got an audition?" Ginny pressed two excited hands to her mouth to stop from squealing.
I nodded. "For a paying gig. I'm going to be a singer."
Chapter Twenty
Penn
"Penn, I know you are going to say this is only because of my recent recovery, but I really think a change of pace would do you good, help you clear your head. If you can't cancel this next business trip, the least you can do is meet your father and me in Monterey for the weekend afterwards. We should talk. I love you."
I erased the voice message from my mother. It was the third one like that she had left since the charity ball. I was busy with work and hardly had time to listen to her long, rambling messages, but they stuck with me.
How was I supposed to clear my head if everyone kept bothering me?
Phillip was insisting on more happy hours than usual. Bill and Tamara had invited me over for countless dinners. And if my assistant asked me one more time if I was getting enough sleep, I was going to knock him out.
Sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. Work was everything. We had the new fall lines to premiere and the holiday catalogs to settle. Then there was the huge list of potential new products, each one waiting for me to review them.
No one understood why I was determined to test every one personally, but I kept reminding them that that is how I built my company in the first place.
Still, the simmering heat of the desert was not very appealing. I faced a three-day trek across Joshua Tree with nothing but a light pack and the latest water-filtering technology. I was going to prove that I could survive using nothing but the fetid standing water left from the rain or the ground water I managed to dig up. I would test the pH of the water and rate the filtration systems accordingly. By Thanksgiving, we would have an entire new line of products, perfect for stocking stuffers.
Christmas, I thought with a wince. How was I supposed to face my parents at Christmas without-
I cut off the thought and stalked around my car to unload my pack. My assistant sat inside the cool, temperature-controlled luxury interior and yammered away on the phone. So far, he'd settled three labor disputes, expedited two cross-seas shipments, and hired a new vice president of sales. All while I had stared at the desert with my thoughts wandering miles away.
I kept thinking about my house in Monterey, leaning on the kitchen counter in the early morning, just waiting for Corsica to come bounding through the door, energized from her run. My mind drifted downstairs to where she had sung like an angel while my father played my sadly neglected baby grand piano. She had shone, actually shone under the recessed ceiling lights, her hair lit up like a halo.
"How can you not be frowning about the weather? I can actually feel all the moisture being sucked right out of me. I'm going to need a facial," my assistant sighed. He reluctantly shut the car door and joined me at the trunk.
"Who says I'm not frowning about the weather?"
Jason cocked an eyebrow. "You're about to tell me it's the perfect forecast for your equipment test: dry and hot. But that's not what you're frowning about."
"I swear to God, if you ask about how I've been sleeping one more time-"
"I don't need to ask. You haven't been, and I'm sorry, but it's showing. And you really should be sitting in on the sales meeting tomorrow. Your new VP starts tomorrow."
I thought about it, long enough for Jason to give me a hopeful smile. Then I shook my head. "How can I announce that our new angle is 'every camper for himself-self-sufficiency in every climate?' It'll mean a lot more if I say it fresh off this trek."
"You won't be so fresh on the other end," Jason said with a wrinkled up nose.
I rolled my eyes and slammed the trunk shut. "Luckily, there won't be anyone around for me to offend. You scheduled for a car to be left for me at the other trailhead. I'll check in morning and night by text; otherwise, you won't see me until I'm showered and ready for a day at the office."
"There's nothing wrong with the office," Jason said. "You designed it. And you helped build it. I don't think a single person in your company would think twice if you started delegating all this macho-man, tough testing to other people. We get dozens of calls a day from world-renowned adventurers who would love to help out. Plus the thousands of unsolicited reviews that come pouring in to the website. How about we just get back in the car and go get an iced tea?"
I laughed. "That sounds awful. I'll take my chances with puddle water, thank you very much. See you on the flip side."
Jason watched as I marched down the trail and into the first stretch of arid land. The air was thick with heat, but the desert stretched out and the sound of the car door slamming reverberated over the ground I had crossed. My assistant drove away, but instead of the normal rush of adrenaline, I felt hollow. It seemed like I echoed as I kept my pace steady along the trail.
Then, the song reached me. A faint breeze carried it from some far off campsite, but it hit me like a sharp upper cut. Corsica had sung that song. I remembered holding onto the railing, not believing that the same, snobbish woman I had run into on the dance floor stairs was now singing as if she was born with a jazz trio at her back.