Free Kimberly Stuart by Act Two: A Novel in Perfect Pitch

For being a man of such stature, his handshake was weak and clammy. I let go.
    â€œKent teaches voice here as well,” Ms. Ellsworth said. “And the occasional course of musical appreciation for the college at large.”
    Kent’s penetrating stare was starting to give me the willies. I’d take Dr. Reinhart’s questionable kissing any day.
    â€œWell,” he said, “I just wanted to introduce myself. I don’t intend to keep you.” A gush of inappropriate, breathy laughter. “Ms. Maddox, we will be giving a faculty recital at the end of the month. You’ll be getting an e-mail but I do hope you’ll participate.”
    â€œI’d be happy to,” I said. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
    Kent snorted. “You’ve got this place in an uproar.” He forced a smile and lightened his tone. “It would be a crime if you weren’t able to perform for us. I’ll send you the details by the end of the week.” He nodded and continued down the hallway.
    Ms. Ellsworth cleared her throat. “Well. Kent is new on the faculty this year. He spent some time out in your stomping grounds, actually. I’m sure you’ll have plenty in common.”
    I wouldn’t count on it , I thought. I had Clammy Man’s number. He probably had a beef with musicians able to make a living in New York. I’d met scores of people just like him over the years. Kent was the embodiment of why I counted so few people as trusted friends. Jealousy became tiresome to me sometime in the mid-eighties and I stopped making an effort to get past it in my personal relationships. Richard, for example, nursed his own slew of character flaws but jealousy was not one of them. So even with a divorce under our belts, he’d made the friendship cut when so many had not.
    Ms. Ellsworth scurried a few paces ahead of me. “Your office is the next door on the left.” She unlocked a door with one small rectangular window and gestured for me to enter first.
    The room was quite humble but I liked it instantly. I could smell fresh paint, the walls crisp white and unmarred by scuffs or dirt left by the previous occupant. A black baby grand sat at an angle, and a file cabinet, small desk, and chair filled the rest of the space. I walked to the piano and played the first few bars of a Bach minuet. Not the best touch, but it was in tune and had a pleasing, mellow sound. The wall opposite the door boasted a huge window of leaded glass. I walked to it and gathered in my view. The window faced a large lawn broken only by statuesque trees, their branches bare and trembling in the wind. Students crisscrossed the lawn in geometric patterns made by wide sidewalks that stretched like pulled taffy from all corners of the quad. The Kjellman building was one of eight or so that faced this open space, each of them constructed of pale limestone with slate shingles.
    Ms. Ellsworth joined me at the window. “Pity you weren’t here in fall,” she said with a sigh. “Our ivy turns the most glorious red.” She pointed to some bare veins of ivy crawling along the top of my window. “Looks like it would have framed your view.”
    I smiled at her. “As a college should look.”
    Her eyes brightened. “Why, yes. That’s what we like to say.”
    I’d read it in the brochure and suspected it to be misguided self-congratulation at best. But my view from the second floor, even in the bleak midwinter, suggested Moravia’s marketing team might have had it right.
    A sharp knock sounded on the open door. We turned.
    â€œMallory!” Ms. Ellsworth hurried over to the girl standing in the threshold.
    The girl smiled and I recognized her as the eye-rolling alto. She walked to me and extended her hand. Her smile was syrupy sweet. “Hello, Ms. Maddox. I’m Mallory Knight. I’ll be your student assistant.”
    I took Mallory’s hand and shook