“Why won’t you give L.A. a chance?” The tears pooling in her eyes tore at his heart.
“Los Angeles is changing you. You’re not the woman I know when you’re there.” She wasn’t the caring, considerate woman he’d fallen in love with when they were teenagers, the woman he’d fallen in love with all over again as adults.
“So this is it?” She lifted her chin.
“I’m sorry, Benny.” He strode from the room, giving her time alone to finish dressing. Giving himself time alone to deal with his breaking heart.
Early Monday morning, Vaughn thought himself alone in Trinity Falls University’s auditorium. He sat on the faux black leather cushioned bench before the university’s eighteen-year-old Steinway baby grand piano. His fingers danced over its ivory keys, running up and down the chords, calling forth an evocative ballad. A love song, one of his original pieces, swelled from the notes and sketched images on his mind: Benita, laughing, loving, breaking his heart. He drove the piece past its crescendo, then allowed the music to fade and, finally, to end.
The applause startled him.
Vaughn’s eyes shot open. His gaze swung around the room until he spotted Dr. Peyton Harris, standing in the second row.
“Encore!” The petite history professor stopped clapping and maneuvered her way onto the auditorium’s aisle. She approached him, her caramel eyes twinkling in her honey-and-chocolate-cream, heart-shaped face. “Is this Untitled Opus Number Six or does this one have a name?”
Vaughn smiled at his friend’s reference to the last time she’d found him at the piano. He checked his watch. It was almost half past seven in the morning. His first class wasn’t until nine. Peyton’s must be earlier.
“‘Forever Love.’” He couldn’t stop tinkering with it.
Peyton stopped beside the piano. Her curly bright brown hair bounced just above her shoulders. “That’s intriguing.”
“Thank you.” Vaughn rose from the bench. He escorted Peyton from the auditorium.
It was a large room in Butler Hall, the university’s administrative building and one of the oldest buildings on campus. It was named after the university’s founder, Clara Butler. The auditorium’s three sections of approximately six hundred mahogany chairs were bolted in place. The red cement floor gave the impression of carpeting climbing subtly toward the doors. Long, narrow gothic windows were carved into the walls just below the high ceiling, giving the auditorium a cathedral-like appearance. In front of the room, a concert pit stretched between the audience and the mahogany stage.
He could feel the history that filled the sweeping space: plays and concerts that had taken place during the almost century and a half since the auditorium’s debut, actors and musicians who’d performed, audiences that had been entertained and inspired.
“How are your plans for your musical progressing?” Peyton’s question pushed the ghosts of performances past back into the corners of his mind.
“I appreciate your not-so-subtle encouragement.” Vaughn smiled at the university’s newest faculty member.
Peyton had arrived in Trinity Falls in July via New York City. She was now dating Darius Knight, one of Vaughn’s childhood friends and the town newspaper’s managing editor. The journalist was a lucky man.
“That’s not an answer.” Peyton gave him a chastising look.
“I’m ready to start production.” He forced the words past the uncertainty weaving doubts in his mind.
“You don’t sound ready. What’s holding you back?”
Vaughn paused in the hallway just outside the auditorium. Benita’s refusal to return to Trinity Falls still hurt. “I’m not sure I can do this alone.”
Peyton stopped beside him. “Producing a musical is a lot of work. I’m sure you’ll need help.”
Vaughn hesitated. “Would you have time to help me?”
“Me?” Peyton’s winged eyebrows flew toward her hairline.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. I’ll understand if you’re busy.”
“I want to help”—Peyton spread her arms—“but I don’t know anything about producing a play.”
“You did a great job cochairing the fund-raising committee for the Guiding Light Community Center last winter.”
Peyton dropped her arms. “Fund-raising is a lot different from the theater. I can throw a party. But you need someone who knows what’s involved in producing a performance.”
Once again, Benita invaded Vaughn’s mind. In high school, they’d been members of their drama club. Now she worked in the entertainment industry. She had years of experience with performances: contracts, budgets, schedules, logistics. But he shut down that road before he traveled too many miles. He had to let go of Benita. She’d made him realize that two days ago.
“I’ll try it alone first. Maybe I can handle it.” Vaughn began walking in the direction of Peyton’s office near the end of the hallway.