Page 43 of The Sound of Harmony

ChapterEleven

Friday morning, Kendrick woke up early, made final arrangements for the movers, finished paperwork with his landlord, and met Raine in the parking lot of his apartment building. He’d told her that he was fine taking the metro to the bus station, but she’d insisted on driving him. “You’ve got luggage,” she’d said. “Besides, it will give me one last chance to see you before you go.”

He met her at the curb, stowed his luggage in the back of her battered Ford Focus, and let her take him to the bus terminal near Union Station, where a Greyhound would take him first to Pittsburgh and then to Columbus.

He didn’t know if it was the early hour or what, but Raine wasn’t her usual put-together self. She always showed up for rehearsals and performances with her hair in soft ringlets and flawless ensembles accented with classic jewelry. Today, her dark curls were held back with several bobby pins stuck at odd angles. Her clothes looked like they’d been slept in and her perfume was heavier than usual, as if she was overdosing for lack of a shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her without earrings and lipstick.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“I might have overslept a little bit,” she said, merging on to 395.

Kendrick was tempted to make a joke about one-night stands, but Raine wasn’t the type. Instead, he asked her about yesterday, when she’d volunteered at Ben’s school.

“Thanks again for taking over for me,” Kendrick said. “I couldn’t leave Ben hanging.”

“Happy to do it,” she said. “Those kids show promise. And Ben is fascinating.”

Kendrick turned in his seat and stared.

“What?” Raine asked. She watched the traffic, but a little smile played around her lips.

“I have never heard anyone describe Ben Oberfield as fascinating.” Kendrick tugged on his ear. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing?

Raine wasn’t saying it, but maybe she didn’t have to. She ran a finger over her lips, then cut her eyes to him and back to the road, like she was bursting with a secret.

“He spoke French to you, didn’t he?” Kendrick asked.

“Perhaps, darling. And perhaps I spoke French to him.” They were over the Potomac now, and Raine slowed for the morning traffic. “And perhaps that’s all we need to say about that, mon petit chou.”

Kendrick continued to stare. His most sensible, calm, reasonable friend was acting like a giddy teenager. “You know I’ll get the full story from Ben later.”

“No, you won’t.” Again with the little smile as she stopped at a red light and regarded him fully. “Even if Ben wanted to tell you—which he doesn’t—you’ll be so busy moving and unpacking, you’ll forget to ask.”

“Probably true.”

Strangely enough, the ritual of uprooting himself made Kendrick feel more settled, not less. This was a familiar dance and he knew all the steps. There was a rhythm to packing, arranging for movers, terminating employment, last meals and drinks with friends, of saying goodbye and promising to stay in touch.

“What’s Cannondale like?” Raine asked.

“It’s cute,” Kendrick said. “It’s a college town. Artsy.”

“You’ll fit in, then. Although I suspect you’d fit in anywhere.”

“Probably.” If there was one thing Kendrick was good at, it was making a positive first impression. But today, he was thinking about Emma, and how he wanted to make more than a first impression. He wanted to make a lasting one. “I already met someone,” he told Raine.

“One of the neighbors?”

“No, I mean, I met someone.” Kendrick leaned forward in his seat, straining at his seatbelt, as if trying to get to the bus station faster. The sooner he did, the sooner he’d get to Cannondale. He didn’t even mind the upcoming ten-hour trip, because each mile would bring him closer to Emma. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night’s phone sex. If Emma could bring him off that hard without even touching him, what would they be like together?

“You haven’t even moved yet and you’ve already got a date?” Raine asked. “What did you use? Tinder? Or that new app? What’s it called again?”

“I met her in real life, on the way to the Midwest Symposium. I stopped to check on my house.”

Raine put on her blinker and changed lanes. “You’re in town for an hour and now you’re dating someone?”

“She’s organizing my house. Her name is Emma, and she—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Raine interrupted.