Page 69 of Unraveling Fate

“Cadenza?” Drostan tried again. “What’s wrong?”

“There isn’t— She—” The words broke around her heaving breaths.

“Your club’s just on the left up here, almost there.” Drostan pointed ahead. “We’ll park up and we’ll fix it, just hold on.”

She was hyperventilating, fingertips buzzing. “My mother—” She couldn’t get the words out.

No part.

No Venice.

No mother.

Because what mother lies about fulfilling her daughter’s dream so she can extort money from her to pay off her mafia debt?

Drostan parked in front of the club and cut the engine. “Your mother? Did something happen to Ilaria?”

“Did something happen to her?” She laughed, half crazed, and glared out the windshield at the boxwood topiaries, trimmed like spearheads. Each leaf stood out, edges bladelike. The seat belt cut into her neck.

Sharp.

Everything was sharp.

“Something must have happened to her.” She fumbled with the seat belt. The shoulder strap yanked at her hair. “How else could she turn into such a monstrous, lying, manipulative—ungh!” She shrieked and folded over, sobbing. “There’s no—no part. In Venice.”

“Oh dear.” He rested a hand on her shaking shoulders. “Am I to understand your mother lied?”

“Yes. But she’s not my mother. Not anymore.” She jerked upright, scouring the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Stupid tears. Waste of bodily fluids.”

“Caddie, I’m so sorry,” Drostan said. “You’re ten times the singer Ilaria ever was. I’ve no doubt you’ll make a wonderful career all on your own. You don’t need her.”

She hiccupped, trying to calm her breathing, and pointed at the country club. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be working here. Crap. I still have to go in for rehearsal.” Pens and notebooks spilled on the floor of the car as she rummaged for a tissue in her purse. “My throat’s a mess. I’ll never be able to sing properly like this.” She scooped everything back into her bag and shoved out of the car. The sun hit her soggy face in a blast of pipe organ, and she squeezed her eyes shut, fingers digging into her scalp.

No part.

No Venice.

No mother.

No Somewhere Else.

“Why don’t we go in and see if your boss can reschedule.” Drostan circled around the car to touch her shoulder. She pried her eyes open and followed him towards the club entrance.

“I’ll get my errands done quick-fast, and we’ll go home and make some tea. When Taran wakes up, we can sit down and figure out your options.”

Cadenza halted in front of the double doors. Options?

What options?

Taran kept insisting fate was already laid out, woven like a tapestry. Unchangeable by choice or desire. What if he was right? Did her tapestry not include a stage career?

Drostan patted his pockets. “I think I left my phone in the car. I’ll be right back. You go ahead.” He trotted back to the parking lot.

A sick feeling sank into her belly, slithered through her limbs.

No options.

Pressure built in her ear, like they needed to pop. The sun’s music stuttered and coughed. Was she fighting a losing battle, shredding her tapestry to rags by trying to go against the grain?