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She slips her hand over mine. “I wish I could have introduced Sage, but Ted claimed that privilege.”
Ted, sure. I’m done talking about him.
“Sage was amazing, wasn’t she?” The words rush out of me as if I’ve been waiting all night to say them.
Now Wanda clasps my hand. “Miraculous. Somehow surprising and not at all a surprise. I knew she’d be incredible, and she surpassed all my expectations. I only wish I could have heard more from her.”
I glance up at the stage, looking to see if Sage will come from that direction, but also envisioning her playing there again.
I look at the stage but direct my words toward Wanda. “I thought I knew how remarkable she was. Then I saw this performance, and I realized that she’s probably full of surprises. Whatever they might be, I’m here for them.”
If it seems weird that I’m baring my soul to an elderly woman before I even say the words to Sage, well, maybe you’ve never had a conversation with Wanda. She has a way of making a person comfortable enough to confess anything.
“I’m so glad to hear you say that,” Wanda says.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear Sage’s voice. “Me, too. Really glad.”
I jump to my feet and wrap my arms around Sage. “Oh, hello. We were just talking about you,” I say.
“Yeah,” she whispers into my neck. “I heard. Word on the street is you kinda like me.”
I shake my head and pull back so I can see her face. “Word on the street has no idea how much.”
25
SAGE
Walking home that night from the concert with my violin in one hand and holding Grayson’s hand in the other, I feel the cold night air on my cheeks, but not with any of the cutting Vermont wind vibes. It’s more like a touch of silk. What if late fall always felt like this here? I mean, I know it doesn’t. Maybe I just don’t feel the cold. Maybe I’m overheated from the excitement of the night.
Maybe it’s Grayson.
People keep stopping us—kids and adults and strangers. I guess even if they don’t know me, I can’t hide the hair. Or the violin case. I’m not being very subtle. The number of students’ parents here makes me regret, only a little, not telling my mom and dad about the concert. Maybe next time. The idea that there may be a next time comes with a little shiver, half shock, half thrill. Lots of strangers smile at me, touching my arm, telling me they loved my performance, wanting to talk about Theodore Halverson and the music and my small part in the success of the evening.
Crowds of students stand around in small groups, some of them shouting out to us, either to Grayson or to me. Some just saying hi, but mostly they’re yelling about the concert. It was a hit. I feel the vibrations of my phone through the little beaded bag over my shoulder. I bet I’ve gotten thirty texts. They can wait.
We walk toward my apartment and finally clear past the crowd. The buzz of talking dims.
“That was fun,” I say.
Grayson tugs on my hand. “It sure looked fun. And it was amazing to watch you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The whole thing was pretty astonishing.”
I look up at him and smile. “That’s a beautiful thing to say.”
“It was a beautiful thing to witness.”
I believe him, because it was a beautiful thing to be part of. The joy of sharing the stage with someone so gifted is a treasure.
I nod. “I’m not saying I want to be a professional performer, because I really don’t. But if any more incredibly handsome and successful singers come to campus and ask me to play a piece with them, I might not make them beg.”
“Are there a lot of those incredibly handsome and successful singers waiting in lines for you?”
I stop walking. I try to hide my smile, but it’s impossible when he stands this close looking this eager. I take a second to enjoy the feeling of delight at the hint of worry behind his joke. How did I ever get to the place where I could have any leverage with Grayson Mercer? This is the best feeling ever. I bat my eyes and breathe in a little gasp, like I’m shocked. “Doctor, are you jealous?”
He nods. Doesn’t even pretend to deny it. “Yes. Totally. That Halverson guy might be the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. And I play basketball with Tyson Perry Miller, so I know a thing or two about good-looking men. That guy?” Grayson points back over our shoulders toward the auditorium. “He’s like peak handsome.”
