Secrets in Summer(61)

Darcy watched, entranced, as Mimi dealt with her cell with the ease of a pro. She exchanged a glance with Willow—amused, impressed.

“Darcy, aren’t you coming?” Beth O’Malley hurried up to Darcy.

Well, this was embarrassing. She’d been so entranced by Mimi and Clive, she’d forgotten about the after-party at Beth’s home.

“Of course,” Darcy told her. “I’ll be right there. I was just—” I was just standing here gawking at Clive.

“Don’t worry about us,” Mimi said. “Clive drove me here and we can take Willow home with us. She can cut through the backyard.”

Darcy smiled.

Beth O’Malley tapped Darcy’s shoulder. “Party, Darcy?”

“Yes, I’ll come for a while,” Darcy said. “I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow.”

She said goodbye to Mimi and the others and followed Beth out to the street.

“Everyone else has gone on ahead,” Beth said. She’d worn a sleeveless black dress to conduct the group—it was hot in the church and there was no air-conditioning. “My dress is sticking to me everywhere. I was afraid someone would faint from the heat. But you look cool enough, Darcy. How do you think it went?” She gave herself a tiny slap. “Stop it, Beth, you’re babbling.”

Darcy laughed. “Nerves. You were cucumber calm during the concert and that’s what matters. The concert was perfect, Beth. You packed the house and I saw lots of people crying.”

“I hope Sylvia saw us from wherever she is now. Heaven, I hope.”

“Yes, heaven,” Darcy agreed. “She probably has her own special section, full of all the birds she’s never seen before.”

“And the ones she banded here,” Beth added.

Beth’s house was wall-to-wall people, not only the chorus but some of their friends, especially those who knew Sylvia. Darcy made her way to the dining room table, covered with a crisp white cloth, the centerpiece a spectacular arrangement of native Nantucket grasses and flowers. As she took a glass of champagne, she found herself surrounded by friends, praising her and congratulating her for her solo. At first she was shy, and almost argued with the others, insisting her voice wasn’t really good, it was too weak…but after a while, she simply said thank you, because wasn’t it just possible that her voice was, if not trained, at least good enough? She knew it had gotten stronger, more flexible, while she was rehearsing. She knew she’d moved up a rung in her self-confidence because of her singing, this group, the music.

Jordan approached Darcy with a great wide smile. “Congratulations! You were wonderful, Darcy. And the entire concert was so moving.”

“It was wonderful, wasn’t it? A real tribute to Sylvia.”

“It could be surpassed only if all of you had whistled like birds for an hour.” Jordan laughed, then drew Darcy close. “Who was that gorgeous man you were talking to?”

“That was Clive Rush and his grandmother Mimi. I’ve told you about them. He’s a musicologist, aka fascinating man next door.”

“He was undressing you with his eyes.”

“Don’t be silly, Jordan. And, anyway, if he was, he probably looks at every woman that way.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?”

“Jordan!”

“Hey. You know you’ll get married again someday, if not to Nash, to someone, and then, honey, the drawbridge slams up and no one else ever enters your castle for the rest of your life.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Are you having an affair?”

“I wish. By the time Lyle gets home from work and I’ve got Kiks in bed, we’re both too tired to even say the word sex.”

“Lyle is a wonderful man,” Darcy stoutly reminded her friend.

“And I’m a wonderful woman. And Kiks is the cutest kid in the world. I still miss romance.”

“Read a novel,” Darcy advised her. “Listen, I’m beat, and I’ve got to work tomorrow. I’m going to slip away.”

“Fine, but you’ve got to promise to tell me if anything happens with you and that Clive guy. I’ll want every detail.”

Darcy laughed. “You are so weird.”

She couldn’t get close to Beth, who was surrounded by admirers, so she caught Beth’s eye, blew her a kiss, waved goodbye, and hurried out the door.

Darcy hummed tunes from the concert as she walked home. Her humming made her think of bees and how they lived together in hives, and she laughed quietly, imagining that the Women’s Chorus was a humming hive with Beth as their queen bee.

She’d never been part of any kind of a group before, except perhaps the waitstaff at Bijoux, and that was different. There they were working for money, for themselves. The women in the chorus came together to make beauty. What they had in common was the desire to sing, because singing was a gift and a pleasure. Pretty Kate Ferguson was a nurse. Ursula Parsons, who stood next to Darcy in the middle row, went around at night clipping back the limbs of any plants whose leaves or flowers dared to protrude even half an inch into her yard, often killing her neighbor’s plants. Marylee MacKenzie kept a kennel of dogs and a stable of horses, and when she came to rehearsals, she reeked of manure and had bits of straw caught in her hair. Andrea Barnes had an eating disorder and draped layers of loose clothing over her skeletal body; she was pale and timid and jittery, but she had a gorgeous soprano voice. She’d been far too shy to sing the solo Darcy had sung tonight, and as Darcy hummed along down the street beneath the summer sky, she realized it was a huge achievement for her, to sing a solo. Tonight she had felt the support and goodwill of all those women, eccentric or not, around her as she sang.