Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 49

Ithaca, New York

July 2006

She remained in bed for three days until her fever broke on the fourth. As the days left before her audition ticked away, her anxiety grew. She avoided her family and focused on music.

A week before the audition, she took a break from her incessant practicing to shop for groceries. She rarely left the house, but the sun was shining and she needed a break. She even put on her favorite sun dress and some nice sandals and drove home with the window down, the warm air in her hair, the radio blasting. Her plan was to cook a nice meal for dinner, an apology of sorts to Tom who had tried repeatedly first to get her to a doctor, and then to eat meals with him and other family members. She refused all his requests, sometimes heatedly, with more anger than warranted.

An unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway. A man sat behind the wheel, a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, the window rolled down. He sank deeper into the seat as she parked.

She snuck in through the garage and carried the grocery bags into the kitchen through the back hallway. Her father might be visiting with a colleague or friend. Not wanting to disturb them, she quietly unpacked the bags.

"Stacy?" her father called from in the living room.

"Yeah?"

"Come join us. You have a visitor."

She put away the last of the frozen items and went in the direction of his voice. He sat in one of the cushioned chairs while across from him sat a man, his back to her, his long dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her stomach flipped. Blood drained from her face.

Sabian turned to look at her. "Hello, Anastasia."

She could not speak. She stood frozen, pale, and in shock. Tom, seeing the expression on her face, leaned forward. "Have a seat," he said. "We were just talking about you."

Anna didn't move. "What are you doing here?"

Sabian smiled pleasantly, like it pleased him to journey to her living room and converse with her father. He raised the violin case next to him on the couch. "I wanted to return your violin."

"That's very kind of you." Tom stood. "I'm going to get a beer. You want one, Sabian?"

Oh, no. Sabian. He knew his name. This was a million times worse than her father's friendship with Devon. No, no, no, no. Everything about the situation was wrong. She had the sick sense—or hope—that this might be a bad dream, one of her illness-derived illusions.

"No, thank you."

Tom brushed by her as he passed into the kitchen, busying far longer than was necessary to get a beer.

Sabian leaned back against the couch like he owned the place. The same confidence and control he exhibited in his study in Santa Monica. He smiled at her.

The cameras. Of course he'd seen. She knew he would, but she never expected this.

She glanced at the violin next to him on the couch. He watched her, and from in the kitchen, her father cracked open his beer and watched her, too.

"I'll put away these groceries," Tom said, eliminating the excuse before she could speak it. "Give you two a chance to catch up."

Catch up? He'd already done that. He probably already knew everything he needed to know, yet he still took the trouble to cross the country for reasons more important than returning her violin. He wanted something else.

"You look well," Sabian said.

She stared at him, then glanced at Tom in the kitchen as he pretended not to notice them. "Would you like to take a walk?"