Chapter 2 - THE MUSIC HE NEVER HEARD
“No, sweetheart,” I whispered. “I don't think he is.”
Theo nodded as though I had confirmed something he already knew.
He didn't cry.
That was what frightened me.
Across the ballroom, Julian lifted Sophie onto his shoulders while photographers crowded around them. Chloe stood beside him, smiling for the cameras.
I wanted to take Theo home.
Instead, my son reached into his jacket pocket and unfolded a small white card.
“Mom, can I show you something?”
It was an invitation from the Manhattan Young Musicians Foundation.
I recognized it immediately. Theo had received it the previous week after winning the statewide competition.
“Of course.”
“They asked me to play tonight.”
I blinked.
“Tonight?”
He nodded.
“Ms. Bennett said Silverpine sponsors the foundation. They're announcing the scholarship winners after dinner.”
Ms. Bennett was Theo's music teacher at school, a patient woman who had spent months encouraging him to compose his own pieces.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Theo stared at the invitation.
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
My heart tightened.
“For me?”
He shook his head.
“For Dad.”
I couldn't speak.
“I thought if I played really well, maybe he'd come watch me next time.”
I pulled him close.
“Theo, listen to me.”
He looked up.
“You don't have to become better at anything to deserve your father's attention.”
His eyes filled.
“Then why doesn't he want to spend time with me?”
It was the question I had been avoiding for years.
I had no answer that could make it hurt less.
“I don't know why he's made these choices,” I said. “But they are his choices. They aren't because of anything wrong with you.”
Theo looked down.
“I still want to play.”
“Then you should.”
“Even if he doesn't clap?”
I kissed his forehead.
“I'll clap enough for both of us.”
He gave me a small smile.
Then a woman approached our table.
She was tall, silver-haired, and wore a midnight-blue evening gown.
“Eleanor Hart?”
“Yes?”
“I'm Margaret Bennett, director of the Manhattan Young Musicians Foundation.”
She looked at Theo.
“And you must be our young composer.”
Theo stood immediately.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Margaret smiled.
“We're almost ready for you backstage.”
I frowned.
“Composer?”
Theo looked embarrassed.
Margaret's expression softened.
“You haven't heard?”
“He told me he was performing.”
She glanced at Theo.
“May I?”
He nodded.
Margaret turned back to me.
“Your son won our Young Composer's Award. His piece was selected from more than six hundred submissions.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“Six hundred?”
Theo shrugged.
“Six hundred and twelve.”
Margaret laughed.
“He remembers every detail.”
I stared at my son.
He had been composing music at the old upright piano in our apartment for months.
I knew he loved it.
I knew he was talented.
But I hadn't realized how extraordinary his work had become.
“What's the piece called?” I asked.
Theo hesitated.
Then answered.
“The Empty Chair.”
The room seemed to go silent around me.
“Oh, Theo.”
He looked at the stage where Julian was still smiling beside Chloe and Sophie.
“It's about waiting for someone.”
I hugged him.
Margaret looked away, giving us privacy.
Then she said gently, “Whenever you're ready, Theo.”
He straightened his tie.
“I'm ready.”
As he followed her backstage, I saw Julian finally turn toward our table.
His expression was irritated.
He gestured for me to come over.
I didn't move.
For eleven years, I had crossed rooms whenever my husband summoned me.
Tonight, I stayed seated.
May you like
Because for once, the person who mattered most was about to walk onto the stage.
And I intended to be watching.
