A Perfect Life: A Novel (14 page)

“That’s a very solitary way to live,” he said, looking sympathetic. “My parents are still in love with each other, and they’ve been married for thirty-five years. They’re kind of cute together, although my
mom is pretty nuts, and says whatever comes into her head. It used to embarrass the hell out of me when I was a kid. She’s outrageous, but he loves it. It was a little dicier as their kid, and not quite as charming.” Blaise smiled at his description of his parents. They sounded interesting to her.

“My parents were pretty ordinary. My father was a butcher, my mother was a teacher, they had a strong work ethic and good values. My father always told me work was everything and to do something I loved. I got the message. But they didn’t say much about loving people. I was their only child, and they were both killed in a car accident when I was in college. They left me a life insurance policy that got me through school, and after that I was on my own. I grew up in Seattle, and I started in news there, as a weather girl,” she said with a grin. “It was a stupid job, but it got me in. And after that it was San Francisco and New York, and now here I am, trying to cover my ass every day. They don’t tell you that in the beginning. It must be in the small print in the contract.”

“You make me feel like I should be doing more,” he said honestly. “I’ve taken the easy road till now, and took a job I could do without too much challenge. By the time you were my age, you were a big star, had been married twice, and had a kid. Not bad,” he said admiringly. She had come a long, long way from being a butcher’s daughter in Seattle. And he had had an easier start. His father had a prestigious job in the academic world, his mother had money, and they were still alive and married. He wondered if that was the difference. Maybe he’d had it too easy. His family had always been behind him. Blaise only had herself.

“It’s not too late,” she reminded him with a wry grin. “You’re still a kid.”

“Thirty-two is not a kid,” he said seriously, but he looked like one to her at times. And she was fifteen years older, and they had been action-packed years. “That’s why I got out of it with the married woman. I don’t want to waste the next fifteen years waiting for someone else to get their life together, while they screw up mine. I finally had to think of myself.”

“So will you stay at Caldwell?” Blaise asked him, curious about him as a person now.

“I don’t know. Maybe not. I want to send some applications around to other schools while I’m here, bigger ones, preferably one in a city, where I’ll have a fuller life. And I don’t want to fall into the same trap again with her, if I go back to Caldwell after this year. I have to go back when they reopen, to honor my contract, but after that I don’t know.”

“I think you’re capable of more,” she said, and he was touched that she thought so. He had a lot of respect for her, more so now that he had seen her at home, what she stood for, and what she did, and the toll it took on her. She was the first to admit that she hadn’t been present enough for Salima, but she was an honest, honorable person.

“Thank you. At least I’d like to try,” Simon said, about doing more with his life. “Otherwise I’ll never know. I don’t need to be a star, or even want to be. I just need to be the best I can be at what I do.” He looked very earnest as he said it.

“From what I can see so far, you are the best. Eric said so. Give yourself a break. What you do is very noble. And if you want to,
you’ll find a better job. You have everything you need, the credentials, the talent, the motivation, the gift. What you do for others is a gift.” Salima had begun to blossom in just two days, and she could see the difference now between Abby protecting her and holding her back, and Simon inspiring her to do more with herself. And he was kind to Blaise too.

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Blaise stood up and said she had to go to bed. She had to get up in an hour, and he apologized for keeping her up.

“It was worth it,” she said in a gentle tone. “Sometimes I get scared at night when I think about my life. All I see are the mistakes in the past, and the dangers up ahead.”

“We all do,” he said gently. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” One of the things she was coming to like about him was that he wasn’t impressed by who she was. He respected her and thought she’d had an amazing career, but he wasn’t dazzled by the tinsel. He understood who Blaise was, and just like her, he was real. They both knew that was rare. Simon treated her as though she were an ordinary, normal person, not a star. No one had done that in years.

“Goodnight, Simon,” she said, and waved from the doorway. “You don’t have to get my coffee ready in the morning. Get some sleep.” It was more than she would be able to do, having to get up in an hour, but he could sleep in till Salima got up.

“Someone has to take care of you,” he said seriously. “From what I can see, no one else does. You take care of everyone else, or at least you’re responsible for them.” He was the first person who had noticed it in years, maybe ever. And he was right. No one took care of her, and no one ever had. She was a fighter and a survivor, used
to doing everything on her own. “At least I can provide hot coffee and some decent dinners while I’m here. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“It’s a lot,” she said. “Thank you. Goodnight.” She closed the kitchen door, and he went back to his room. And she went back to hers, after she checked on Salima, feeling like she’d found a friend. It was a nice thing to have.

With all the pressures and tension at the network, finding a music teacher for Salima had slipped Blaise’s mind. She and Simon were singing together almost every night, and Salima was having fun, but Mark hadn’t dropped the ball on the project, even if Blaise had. A week after she’d made the request, he put a memo on her desk for her to find after her morning segment.

There were three names with phone numbers and e-mails, two women, one man, two from LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts, and one from Juilliard. His memo said he had spoken to all of them, and Blaise wandered out to his desk to discuss it with him.

“So who did you like best?” she asked, impressed with his thorough research. Salima was going to be thrilled.

“The one from Juilliard, hands down. The others sounded good, but the woman from Juilliard was more appealing. A little wacky maybe, but she was excited to work with Salima even though she’s blind. I thought the other two might be more nervous about it, although I could be wrong. And all three come from great schools.”

“Follow your gut,” Blaise said without hesitation. “Call her. Ask her to come to the house, so Salima can check her out. She has to like her too.”

“No problem.” And half an hour later, there was a follow-up note on her desk with the teacher’s name, and a time for an appointment the next day with Salima at the apartment, and of course Simon would be there too. It was set for the time Blaise usually came home from work.

The following day Blaise had only just come through the door five minutes before and was talking to Salima when the doorman called to announce their “guest.” It was the Juilliard teacher, Lucianna Goldstein. Mark had already told her that she was an Italian woman, married to an American, hence the name. And when she came through the door five minutes later, while Blaise was still taking off her coat, the woman was as incongruous as her name. She had a wide, welcoming smile, bright blue eyes, and a mellifluous voice, and a head full of shining gold curls. She had a large, generous body, an enormous bosom, and tiny spindly legs. She wore lots of bangle bracelets, too much perfume, dangling hoop earrings, and enormously high stiletto heels. And to top it all off, a hat with flowers on it that moved, which she carefully removed as soon as she entered the apartment and set down on the hall table as Blaise stared at it in fascination. It looked like a garden with tiny living things on it. There were so many different component parts to her outfit that Blaise didn’t know where to look, and she was sorry that Salima wouldn’t be able to share this vision. But the most noticeable thing about Lucianna was her voice. It was smooth as silk.
And her eyes were the most brilliant blue she had ever seen, as she looked at Blaise warmly.

“Oh my,” Lucianna said with a smile that showed off perfect teeth, “you’re older than I thought you would be.” She looked straight at Blaise. “But that’s all right, it’s never too late to learn to sing.” She had a lovely accent, and Simon was grinning. The teacher thought Blaise was Salima, and she was quick to explain, as Salima arrived in the front hall, having heard the doorbell. She was listening intently and wrinkled her nose at the perfume that assaulted her as soon as she joined them.

“This is Salima, your prospective student,” Blaise explained. “Won’t you come in?” She offered Lucianna a cup of tea as they walked into the living room, but she declined, then she noticed the grand piano. It was a Steinway, and she approved. She seemed a little nervous with Salima, and even more so around Blaise. She knew exactly who they were and had told Mark she didn’t know that Blaise McCarthy had a blind daughter. And he told her that there would be a confidentiality agreement to sign if she was hired. It was standard fare in Blaise’s life. And the teacher had no problem with the agreement. She mentioned that she’d never had a blind student before.

They chatted for a few minutes, as Lucianna perched on the couch, and Salima mostly listened. She could hear that the woman was nervous, and Lucianna told them she had studied opera in Milan. She rattled off the various opera companies she had worked for all over Europe, and now she had been in the States for eighteen years, and with Juilliard for fifteen. She told Salima that if she was serious about a music career, she should apply. But for now, all Salima
wanted were some lessons, and after half an hour of introductions, Lucianna asked her to sing. Simon had agreed to accompany her on the piano, and Salima took her place next to him. She was glad that he was there, and she asked Lucianna what she’d like to hear. She said she didn’t know any opera, but she knew show tunes, contemporary music, and gospel hymns. Diplomatically, Lucianna suggested one of each. She started with a song from
Mamma Mia!
, went on to
Les Miserables
, and finished with a gospel song that Blaise loved whenever she sang it. Her high notes were so high, they sounded as if they could shatter glass, and she hit them with ease. She went through the three songs easily, and Lucianna stared at her when she was finished.

“Did you warm up before I came?” she asked, looking worried.

“No, I didn’t. No one told me what time you’d be here,” which was why she was wearing sweatpants and socks, instead of at least jeans and shoes.

“You’ll ruin your voice if you do that,” the ample Italian woman warned her. “You must never sing without warming up first. And the gospel song—can you always hit those high notes?” Salima said she could, with a grin. Lucianna looked at her then with tears in her eyes. “Do you realize how lucky you are? What a gift you have? People train for years and can’t hit notes like that. You just soar right through it like a bird in the sky,” she said, and dabbed at her eyes. “What I could have done with a voice like yours.” She had explained that she was from Venice originally, although she had lived in Milan while she trained and studied. She asked Salima if she had any interest in opera, and Salima said she didn’t. She wanted to enjoy what she sang. It was mostly fun for her. “You
should really be in school,” she said. “This is very naughty of you, to treat your voice like a toy. It’s not a plaything, it’s a gift.” She was a very funny woman, and Blaise thought she looked like a caricature of herself with her enormous body, skinny legs, and tiny feet in high heels. And she had gentle, loving eyes. Simon was watching her in fascination, and Salima was listening to her raptly.

“Would you be willing to take my daughter on as a student?” Blaise finally asked her bluntly, as everyone else beat around the bush.

“Of course,” she said with a wide smile that was wasted on Salima, but she reached out and touched her hand. “I would love to, it would be an honor. But I will expect you to work very hard,” she admonished Salima.

“How many times would you like to meet?” Blaise asked her and was startled when she said three times a week. “Is that too much?” Blaise asked with a look of concern. It seemed like a lot to her.

“Not if she’s serious about singing,” Lucianna answered. “If she had less of a voice, I’d say once or twice a week. But if we want results, and to train her voice properly, it should be three or even four times a week. We can start with three and see how she does.”

“What do you think, Salima?” Blaise didn’t want to leave her out of the decision and treat her like a child. “How many times a week would you want singing lessons?”

“Every day,” Salima said, grinning, and Lucianna looked thrilled. She looked like she had discovered gold that afternoon, or a diamond on the street.

They set their first meeting for the following afternoon, and Lucianna kissed Salima’s cheek and reminded her to keep her neck
warm at all times and wear a scarf. She put her hat back on, shook hands with Blaise and Simon, and a moment later she was gone as they all stared at each other and began to laugh. She was a sweet woman even if she looked a little like a clown. That had only occurred to Blaise once they sat down.

“She smells awful, but I like her,” Salima was the first to comment.

“You should see what she looks like,” Blaise added with a smile, but she liked her too. There was something very warm and lovable about her.

Simon agreed that she was nice, and her credentials were excellent if she taught at Juilliard, and whatever happened, he thought it would be something fun for Salima to do. She was excited and talked about it all through dinner. Simon was cooking for them every night now. He tried to keep it light for Blaise but occasionally showed off with some of his fancier dishes. They were all superb. And it added a festive feeling to the evenings. Blaise found herself looking forward to their dinners together, and it was nice having someone ask her how her day was, and he looked as though he cared. Ever since their conversation about what she dealt with at the network, he had had even more respect for her, and sympathy when she came home.