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

firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mallory. I saw you in rehearsal.” I raised one eyebrow. “Alto, am I correct?”
    She blinked once, kept smiling. “Yes, that’s right. You have a good memory.”
    â€œYes, I do,” I said, nodding slowly and returning her high wattage grin.
    â€œMallory is one of our top students,” Ms. Ellsworth said. She draped one arm behind the girl and squeezed her petite shoulders. “She sings in the concert choir, plays viola in the orchestra, and still finds time to maintain a 4.0 grade point average. We knew she’d be perfect for this special assignment.” Ms. Ellsworth drew out the pronunciation of the word, saying “ spay -shell” with another squeeze to Mallory’s shoulders.
    Mallory stood straighter. “Just let me know how I can help.” She laid an index card with neat handwriting on the desk. “This is my phone number and e-mail address. I’ve also left my class schedule so you know when I’m available. I’ll come by Monday morning after orchestra to see how your first day is going.” She grinned. “We hope you find our humble Moravia to be full of surprises.”
    â€œI’m sure I will,” I said. I put an arm around Mallory and Ms. Ellsworth and moved toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ll just take a moment to get settled.”
    They walked through the door single file and turned to face me from the hallway. I stood with a hand on the door handle, waving with the other. “Thanks for all your help. See you soon.” Ms. Ellsworth looked a bit befuddled at the abrupt good-bye, but I shut the door and walked to the piano bench. I leaned both arms on the music stand and let my head rest on the black wood. I turned my face toward the window and listened to brittle tree branches pester the glass.
    So this was it, I thought. Home away from home. Inappropriately affectionate conductor, intimidated baritone, and snippy assistant. All in all, I had to admit, not much different from a morning in New York.

9

    First Impressions
    I stayed on campus all day. First priority was to collect office essentials. While I would have preferred a bit of monetary help from the department (a fabric chair would have warmed things up, as would a cappuccino maker), Ms. Ellsworth assured me I was on my own for any redecorating, so I made do. I considered calling Mallory back and putting that argyle vest to work, but having to find everything on my own did allow me to see campus. I checked out a CD player from a mullet-sporting audiovisual man named Dax. Dax didn’t make eye contact with me once during our exchange, but these people held the keys to the universe in a place like Moravia, so I shut my mouth. Besides, I’d hardly be pleasant either were I to dwell in a shabby office deep within the bowels of the science building.
    The beginnings of an in-office CD collection came from the music library on the first floor of Kjellman. Many of the students from concert choir were huddled in and around four rows of listening carrels, large black headphones covering their ears as they practiced their conducting, took notes on Wagner and Bernstein, and hummed along to Mozart. A group of gregarious vocal performance types waved heartily at me and I smiled. A fascinating world, this petri dish of musical education, overrun with neglected hairstyles and bad shoes. I remembered being poor but certainly I hadn’t looked that fashion-anemic.
    A trip to the campus bookstore landed me with two posters for the bare walls: an early Chagall and a cityscape by O’Keeffe that made me nostalgic for buildings that could block the sky. I added to my purchases a bag of dark chocolate (domestic but still palatable), a Moravia College coffee mug, and a small plant that the checkout girl assured me could survive many weeks of neglect before needing resuscitation.
    By the end of the