Sweet Trilogy: Sweet Talk / Sweet Spot / Sweet Trouble. Сьюзен Мэллери

opportunity. To hear someone of your caliber play live.”

      If the panic didn’t ease, they were going to hear her play dead.

      This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. She didn’t owe them anything. What did they think, that they deserved to hear her for free? She earned thousands of dollars for each…

      She sighed. It wasn’t about the money. It was about excuses. That was the bottom line. Either she did what she’d promised to or she weaseled out.

      Claire clutched her music to her chest. “Would you please show me where I’m going to play?”

      “Sure. I’m Molly, by the way.”

      “Nice to meet you, Molly.”

      They walked down a long corridor and stopped in front of several sets of double doors. Claire could already hear the crowd inside.

      “I need to go in the stage entrance,” she said. Maybe not seeing the crowd would help.

      “Not a problem.”

      Molly took her around the side. The space might be smaller than most venues she played, but the controlled mess of props and cables was very much the same. The contrast between what the audience saw and the chaos behind the scenes was oddly comforting.

      “Anything else?” Molly asked.

      Claire nodded. “If you could please make sure the curtains are closed and have Amy Knight join me?”

      “Right away.”

      When she was alone, Claire practiced the breathing she’d been taught. She pictured herself in a safe bubble and when that didn’t work, tried to imagine a field of flowers. She paced, she stretched, she studied her music, then she put it down when she heard footsteps.

      Amy ran toward her. “You’re here,” she signed.

      “I know. I’m going to play the piano for a lot of people. Would it be okay if you stood like you did before?”

      Amy nodded, then signed, “Why?”

      “I’m scared,” Claire admitted. “Having you nearby makes me not so scared.”

      “I’ll protect you,” Amy said.

      Easy words, but oddly enough, Claire believed her.

      “HAVE YOU EVER HEARD her play live before?” Wyatt asked as he and Nicole walked down the hallway of Amy’s school.

      “No. I’ve listened to a couple of CDs, but that’s it. Talk about weird. She’s my sister. Shouldn’t I have been to at least one performance?”

      “You didn’t have any contact with her,” he told her. “Why would you go?”

      “Don’t try to finesse this with logic. I can’t believe how long we’ve been apart.” She waited while he pulled open one of the auditorium doors. “I wouldn’t have gone to New York to take care of her. I would have let her figure it out herself.”

      He tugged on a strand of her hair. “Expect me to judge you for that?”

      “Maybe. I’m judging myself. I’ve been nothing but mean to her and yet she still showed up. She leads with her heart.”

      “I know.”

      They stepped into the auditorium. Amy’s teacher, Mrs. Olive had promised to saved them seats, otherwise they wouldn’t have had a chance of finding a place to sit. Wyatt had heard that some of the parents were coming, but he hadn’t expected a standing-room-only crowd.

      “I’ve never seen it like this,” Nicole said.

      People were moving around and talking excitedly. They’d dropped whatever they were doing to come see Claire play the piano. He felt a sense of pride for her and what she was able to do.

      “I hope she’s going to be able to pull this off,” Nicole murmured. “She was pretty freaked before.

      “She told you?” Wyatt asked. “About…” He didn’t want to say too much in case Claire hadn’t said anything to her sister.

      “The panic attacks? She told me this morning, when she was digging through her sheet music and about to fall over the edge. We talked, she seemed better, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it. She was really upset.”

      “What she does can’t be easy.”

      Nicole smiled. “So you like her now.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “I take it the date went well.”

      “Didn’t you get all the details from Claire?”

      “A few. But now I can hear the man’s perspective.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      Amy’s teacher waved them over. “Isn’t this amazing? I’m beyond excited. Imagine being able to hear Claire Keyes in person. You must be so proud.”

      “I am,” Nicole murmured.

      They settled into their seats. Heavy black drapes covered the stage.

      “Are you proud?” he asked quietly. “Of Claire?”

      “Yes, and it surprises me, too. I guess I’ve stopped resenting her. I know this hasn’t come easy for her. She’s worked her butt off to get where she is now. I just hope she’ll be all right.”

      “She’ll make it through,” he said. Claire didn’t have a choice. There were a couple of hundred people with expectations. He had a hard time accepting she would be comfortable letting them down.

      “Do you really believe that?”

      “I’m going on faith. It’s all I have.”

      “It was easier when I didn’t like her,” Nicole muttered. “Now I have to be all worried and concerned. Before I would have been happy she was suffering.”

      “You’re always looking at the bright side.”

      “Shh. I’m ignoring you and sending calm, healing thoughts to my sister.”

      A few minutes later, the principal stepped onto the stage. She had a handheld microphone and asked for quiet.

      “We have an unexpected pleasure this afternoon,” she said when the crowd had stilled. “Claire Keyes is going to play for us.”

      Everyone clapped. Mrs. Freeman waited for silence before continuing. “Most of you already know Claire’s story. When she was three years old, she walked over to a piano and began to play. She’d never seen the instrument before, had received no instruction of any kind. She was a true child prodigy. But unlike those who peak early, Claire only improved as she grew up. She studied, she played, she traveled the world, sharing her gift. Today she will share that gift with us. Claire Keyes.”

      “I hope she doesn’t fall on her ass,” Nicole whispered.

      Wyatt privately agreed.

      The drapes parted showing a piano in the center of the stage. Nicole crossed her fingers when Claire appeared, holding Amy’s hand. They moved to the piano. Claire took her seat on the bench without looking at anyone, while Amy stood next to the piano, her hands on top of it, as if prepared to feel the music.

      Wyatt could see tension in Claire’s back. There was something about the set of her head that told him she was having trouble breathing.

      He swore silently, wanting to do something, anything, to fix the problem. But it didn’t require anything from him. Claire was truly on her own.

      She spread out her music. Wyatt stared at the pages, at the small black dots that meant something to her. How could anyone get that right? How could she possibly—

      Claire put her hands on the keys and began to play. Music filled the auditorium, the