Camille stood and walked to the kitchen.Grayson could do nothing but follow her.He tried to imagine a reality in which they both lived in New York, in which he met her for burgers and heard about her big, brand-new life.He tried to imagine what had gone so wrong here in Paris.Camille had been dating someone, the son of a ridiculously wealthy banker.Had they broken up?Had she had a falling out with one of her ex-ballerina friends?Grayson cursed himself for not forcing himself into her life, for not demanding answers to more of his questions.But she’d spent so much of the past few years rejecting him.It had hurt.
Camille put a teakettle on the stove and her hands on her hips.For a long time, they listened to the water boiling.When it began to screech, Camille removed it from the heat and turned to look at her father.“What are you doing for Christmas?”she asked.
“I don’t have any plans,” he said.“Do you?”
“Mama wants to spend it with her new boyfriend,” Camille said.
Grayson hadn’t realized his soon-to-be ex-wife was seeing anyone.He searched himself for sorrow and found nothing.He was glad they were done with each other.
“A few friends have invited me,” Camille said.“But I don’t know.Maybe it would be nice to celebrate the holidays in my other country.America.”She tried on a smile.
Grayson felt bowled over with happiness.He couldn’t believe it.It took everything within him not to give her a bear hug.He didn’t want to frighten her away.
She snapped her fingers.“But we will take a commercial flight,” she said.“I’m not taking a silly boat across the Atlantic Ocean.We’d probably miss the holiday in that case.”
Grayson laughed, knowing that he couldn’t push his luck.“Are you sure you want to fly commercial?Do you know what it’s like?”
Camille pulled a funny face.“Maybe we can fly first class at least?”
Grayson decided it was a decent enough compromise.“I’ll make the arrangements,” he promised her.He couldn’t believe they’d be spending Christmas together.It felt like a miracle that she’d decided to let him help her.
ChapterThirteen
It was five days before the Christmas party at the Copperfield House.Saying Greta was “frantic” was an understatement.Although Ella, Alana, and Julia took turns telling their mother how prepared she was and how perfect it would all be, Greta seemed to add things to her to-do list by the hour.She went to the grocery store anywhere between two and five times a day, so much so that the cashiers had begun to make bets about how often they would see her.
“She needs to be stopped,” Ella said to Stevie as they set up in one of the practice rooms at the Copperfield House.“She’s going to make herself sick!”
“I’d love to see someone try to slow her down.”Stevie grinned.“The woman’s got a fire in her.She won’t rest till the new year.”
Ella laughed and sat down at the little desk to go over Stevie’s newly written lyrics, most of which she’d scribed during her epic drive across the country.
“But I’ve had a lot of inspiration since I arrived,” Stevie confessed, her eyes to the ceiling.“That room upstairs is so quiet and warm and nice.And the other artists are always working, always building one another up.At first, I thought maybe they didn’t want someone new in their cohort, but we all took to each other right away.”Stevie looked bashful, as though she wasn’t expecting to be liked at all.Ella was mystified at this.Who in their right mind wouldn’t like Stevie?
And how was it possible that Stevie’s daughter had cut her off?
Most of Stevie’s lyrics, Ella now saw, delved into the tragedy of Stevie’s breakup with her daughter.Stevie spoke of loneliness, of giving her entire heart to her daughter, of her daughter's rejection.She wrote with a sense of heart that would connect with any listener, Ella was sure.Ella was surprised by how honest it felt.
“They’re raw,” Stevie confessed, strumming her guitar and watching Ella flip through her lyrics.“They probably need to be edited a bit.”
“They’re from the heart,” Ella corrected.“They’re wonderful.”
Ella explained that their agent, Greg, had peeked at some of the videos Laura made of Stevie, Ella, and Will performing together.“He loves what he’s seen so far,” she said.“He wants us to arrange a little tour for spring.Would you be up for something like that?”
Stevie’s cheeks were peach and pink, echoing her joy.“I don’t have a single thing planned for the new year,” she said.“In fact, I’m pretty sure the rest of my life is wide open.Let’s do it!”
For the better part of that afternoon, Ella and Stevie rehearsed the new songs, fine-tuned some of the key changes, and waited for Will to join them on the drums.When he finally appeared, his face was slack and very pale, so much so that Stevie’s voice cut out, and she asked into the microphone, “What’s up, Will?Are you feeling okay?”She quickly turned off the mic and blushed, her face marred with worry.
Ella hurried over to him and touched his shoulder.She’d seen Will at every stage of sorrow and illness, but she struggled to gauge where this expression put him.
To Ella’s relief, Will tried to laugh it off.“I just got a call from Water Works.Calvin says they’re going in a different direction with the song.”
Ella’s heart lifted.Was that all?Just some silly company run by some silly, wealthy guy?
“It’s okay, honey,” she said, squeezing his shoulder.“The offer was a surprise anyway, wasn’t it?And we’ll be fine without the gig.”
Stevie looked at them expectantly, not understanding.Ella turned to explain, “Some really wealthy guy was going to feature our song on his commercial.”
“He’s not just any wealthy guy,” Will countered.“He’s actually doing something with his money.He wants to clean up the oceans by 2035.How many wealthy people do you know who’re working for that kind of future?”
