Page 118 of Resisting the Fall

Thankfully, none of it mattered yet. We could make those decisions together—if I won the audition.

My phone chimed with an incoming text.

Ben: You’re incredible!

Ben: I just got out of my meeting, so I’d love to hear it. Video call?

When I met her gaze, Cassandra gave a knowing smile. She stood up to grab our dishes. “Tell Ben I say hello.”

Before she’d made it far, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so grateful for you.”

She gave a small laugh, pressing her cheek to mine. “Almost as grateful as I am for you.”

Bennett

I’d decided to use the week Maven was in New York to get as much done on our house as I could. Every evening, I’d head over after leaving the shop and work until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Plus, staying busy helped me keep from thinking too much about what was coming. I’d already looked up what it would require to become licensed to do cabinet installations in New York City, and though it seemed straightforward enough, everything else about expanding my business there was… overwhelming to say the least.

Would I need to open a new workshop in the city? Get all new equipment? Buy new trucks? Just the thought of navigating those streets in a box truck and hauling cabinets into high-rises made me feel irritable. Let alone finding clients in a sea of contractors, hiring employees I trusted, locating decent suppliers and local lumberyards, and paying the higher premiums to be insured there.

I drew in a deep breath, stopping my downward cycle. None of that mattered yet, and if the time came to figure it out, I’d do it. One step at a time. If Dust & Timber could thrive here in Vermont, there’s no reason it couldn’t in New York. Because there was one thing I knew for certain—there was nothing more difficult than living a life without Maven.

The sound of an engine outside had me walking toward the open window. It was Dominic’s red Ford pickup, but there were other voices too. Confused, I headed down the stairs and opened the door to find Dom, Carson, and Dean Alden, who’d helped with the barn raising. The three of them carried toolboxes and chatted as they made their way up to the porch.

I smiled. “What are you guys doing here?”

Their gazes shifted to me.

“We thought you could use some help,” Carson said right as another truck pulled up behind Dom’s. The doors opened. Archer Kade and James Carver stepped out with a crew of my guys from work—Boone, Josh, and Alex. Then Tate pulled his truck next to mine—my dad, Luke, and Liv were apparently joining the caravan of volunteers.

A lump formed in my throat, and I just stood there while each of them walked into the house, several placing a hand on my shoulder as they passed.

Dad stopped next to me. “We’ve got some real good people here in Autumn Ridge. But you’d better come in and tell ’em what needs to be done before these guys just start doing whatever they feel like.”

I gave a small chuckle. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Before I’d finished explaining the different tasks still needing to be done, a few more Autumn Ridge locals had joined the crew, including Wade Stevenson and my old boss, Wally. Once everyone had divvied up the jobs, Boone lifted a hand like we were breaking from a football huddle. “Let’s put on some classical music and get this place done!”

A round of cheers sounded, and a second wave of emotion struck me. This time it was at the thought of leaving behind this community. But I wouldn’t be leaving them behind. Not entirely. And not for good. Maven and I would be back to visit plenty. And one day, we’d settle down in this house I’d built for us. I was positive about that.

With a warmth in my chest and a smile on my lips, I got to work. We had a house to finish!

Maven

Was it ironic that the day of my audition for the New York Philharmonic was supposed to have been the day of my and Ben’s final divorce hearing? I tried not to think about it as I waited, my mind running through my selected concerto for the fiftieth time that day. But I was ready.

A gray-haired woman in black slacks and a gray blouse stepped into the waiting room, her gaze falling on me. “Miss Price, they’re ready for you.”

Leaving my violin case and belongings, I followed her. The nerves that had been rushing through me seemed to multiply and flit about my insides recklessly. When we stepped backstage, she gestured me forward.

“Good luck.”

I took one long inhale and released it before stepping onto the stage. My footsteps echoed with each step, the only sound in the entire hall. I came to a stop on the X taped onto the floor, the music stand next to it displaying the binder of orchestral excerpts for later.

There was no screen blocking me from the committee’s view this round, and past the bright lights of the stage, I could see them spread out among the first several rows of the dark auditorium. A flashlight flicked on, illuminating the music director, who looked down at his clipboard. “Welcome, Miss Price.” His voice was amplified over the sound system. “Please begin with the concerto.”

With one more calming breath, I lifted the violin, tuned it, and nodded to the accompanist. Then I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me and allowing myself to be alone with the music.

Several minutes into the first movement, the music director’s voice came over the microphone again. “Thank you. Let’s skip ahead to the cadenza.”