Page 117 of Total Exposure

“It was bought for you, dear. It was an anonymous sale. I don’t know who actually paid for it. And I wouldn’t have sold it to anyone if they hadn’t mentioned it was a gift and I could present it to you myself. But it’s been paid for, so don’t you worry about me. I’ve already set up trusts for my sisters and their families with the money. They will all be taken care of after I’m gone thanks to your secret benefactor.”

I don’t know what to say. I just sit in my living room, with a living legend I have admired and emulated my entire life, and weep.

She gets up, hard as it is with her health and age, and walks over to the couch to sit down next to me. She holds me as I cry. Strokes my hand, pets my hair, assures me everything is gonna turn out just fine.

Mothers me.

And I cry harder.

Chapter Forty-Eight - Ixion

I charter a jet to Denver. It takes me several hours to get myself together and drive out to the airstrip in Sheridan, so I don’t arrive in the city until almost seven PM. I get to the performing arts center in Downtown a few minutes after eight. But there’s no music yet—was she waiting for me?—so they let me in the doors, clutching my VIP pass in my hand, and direct me to the stairs, because I have a balcony seat.

I expect Jordan to be there, at least. Or Lucinda. But it’s a private box, so I take my seat just as the lights dim and the cacophony of voices dulls to a murmur.

The deep scarlet curtain opens and the entire theatre immediately becomes silent.

Evangeline walks onto the stage with no gloves. No hat, no coat, no scarf, no sunglasses.

The entire room erupts in a standing ovation.

I stand with them. Smiling.

She looks up at me, right at me. Like dead in the eyes.

And I stare back at her.

She’s holding the Stradivarius. Cradling it in her arms like a baby. She wipes a tear from her eyes, whispers, “Thank you,” to the crowd as they continue their applause. And then nods to me.

I nod back.

And when her bow touches those strings… the whole theatre cries. Tears of joy over the beauty of her gift.

I sit mesmerized. Barely able to remember to breathe. Still. Eyes only for her. And maybe for the first time since I gave up my life for my best friend, I feel… whole again.

She’s wearing the dress I left for her that last day. The whole ensemble. The diamonds and sapphires sparkle under the bright lights.

She keeps her eyes closed most of the time. But every time she opens them between pieces, she’s looking up at me.

And I understand why I’m up here in the box, and not down below with Lucinda and Jordan and a few other special guests she’s invited.

It’s so she could see me, seeing her.

It’s so the spotlight that erases the crowd right in front of her won’t erase me.

I am the only person in this entire theatre she wants to see.

So I watch her. I watch her shine the way I knew she could. I might even cry when she stops, and wish for more.

When it’s over—and man, it’s over way too soon—she accepts her flowers. She takes her bow, and then a curtsey, just like she used to when she was little, and says, “Thank you,” in a small, but very sincerely appreciative voice.

I don’t know what to do after that. So I sit in my box for a while. Eyes on the people down below. Jordan, Lucinda, Chella and her husband, Smith. And Dan. That guy from the used books and record store.

“Ixion?” a voice whispers behind me.

I shake my head, unable to believe it’s really her. But when I turn, there she is.

Augustine. Older than I remember. Sadder too. And alone. “I just want you to know—“