In a few minutes, we'll be back at the mansion. Back to the careful boundaries between employer and employee, father and nanny.
Back to pretending this electric pull between us doesn't exist.
"Thank you for today," Cameron says quietly as Salty guides us toward the dock. "All of it."
"My pleasure," Salty replies, already preparing to dock. "Sometimes, a man needs to remember there's more to life than the battles he's fighting."
As we gather our things and prepare to disembark, I catch Cameron watching me again. This time, when our eyes meet, he doesn't look away.
And neither do I.
CHAPTER 22
TARA
Once we've all recovered from the morning boat adventure with Salty, we go our separate ways. As Cameron promised, driver Henry takes me to the rehearsals of Moby Dick at the Dreamland Theater.
Once I enter, I hear music coming from the main auditorium. Several men stand on stage singing a passage from Moby Dick. The music is soaring and precise.
A large man sits in the front row, radiating authority. I recognize him as Mr. Rudin, the Met's music director.
This is the man who could change my future with a single phone call.
When the men break, I approach him nervously. "Hello. I'm Tara Thompson. Miss Swain said she spoke to you about me."
His eyes flick over me—jeans, T-shirt, no makeup. "Right. Miss Swain mentioned something." He turns back to the men on stage. "You are free to sit in the back and just observe."
"I was hoping to assist you. Take notes, help with?—"
"I have assistants." He doesn't look up. "Try not to make noise."
My heart sinks. This isn't mentorship—it's babysitting at a patron's request.
I take a seat, feeling invisible.
As the hour ticks by, he directs his real assistants with precision, explaining artistic choices, demonstrating vocal techniques.
I'm learning nothing except how it feels to be ignored.
During the break, I follow the musicians to a small side room. A tall, imperious woman holds court at a table. She beckons me over with her crooked finger.
It takes me a moment to recognize her. She's Fabiana Farr, world-famous soprano and star of this production.
And true to the publicity photos I've seen of her, a tiny Maltese sits on her lap.
The dog yaps at me as soon as I come near.
“And who are you?"
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Farr. I'm Tara Thompson."
“Why are you here?”
“I’m just helping out. I'm a vocal arts major at NYU and?—"
"I see," she says, making a vague gesture as if she's waving me away. "That will be all."
"How rude!" I say under my breath at the coffee station.
