Page 123 of Resisting the Fall

Carson laughed.

I wrapped an arm around her waist. “You did amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She leaned her head into me when her gaze caught on Aria, who held the flowers I’d brought for Maven. Tommy had picked them out, confident Mom would like the bright collection of blooms in pink, purple, and blue with a little teddy bear toy stuffed into the side. With the way she smiled, I think he was actually right. “What pretty flowers.”

“I picked them,” Tommy said.

She gave him a little squeeze. “Thank you.”

Carrying a bouquet was a difficult task for an almost two-year-old, but after a near fall that Penny helped avoid, Aria made it to her mom. Maven squatted down, setting Tommy on the floor, but instead of Aria handing her mom the flowers, she dropped them and climbed into Maven’s outstretched arms.

Penny laughed and grabbed the discarded bouquet, handing it to Maven. “For you.”

“Thank you, Pen.” Maven stood again and wrapped her niece in a side hug before she took the flowers and her gaze shifted to all the others. “And thank you all for coming.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” my dad said.

Hearing Grandpa’s voice, Aria reached for him. When he took her, she nuzzled into him with sleep-heavy eyes, sticking her thumb in her mouth while my mom rubbed her back. Between Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Carson, Penny, and Cassandra, these kids of ours could never decide who they wanted to be with most, so it was a constant game of musical people.

“Emma was bummed she couldn’t make it,” Carson said to Maven when she greeted him. “She really wanted to be here.”

“I know.” Maven smiled at her brother. “But there will be plenty more concerts to attend.”

“Yes, please,” Cassandra said, giving Maven a hug. “It was such a wonderful concert.”

She gave a contented sigh. “It was so fun performing with an orchestra again. I’ve missed it.”

Sharon and my mom both congratulated Maven on her performance and sang the orchestra’s praises. After several more minutes of everyone standing around chatting, Tommy had discovered the elevator.

“Should we head out?” I asked before one of us got stuck riding the elevator up and down for the next quarter of an hour.

“I saw an ice cream parlor around the corner,” Cassandra said. “My treat?”

Nods were already bouncing around the group, and Tommy gave a loud, “I want ice cream!”

Maven laughed. “This group will never say no to ice cream.”

I picked up Tommy, securing him before the doors opened.

“Maven!” The French accent was oddly familiar, and though I’d not heard it in years, it instantly threw me back in time, bringing with it a slight uneasy feeling.

“Jean-Paul!” Maven smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

The tall, lean man looked almost identical to how I remembered him, but with more gray streaking through his black hair. “The director is a dear friend of mine. To my surprise, when I showed up today, you were in the orchestra. It felt serendipitous.”

Serendipitous? What did he mean by that?

Maven smiled. “Well, it’s so good to see you after all of these years.”

Jean-Paul glanced around our group. He gave me a brief nod, then his gaze paused on our kids. “Are these two little ones yours?”

Maven nodded. “Tommy here is our oldest, and that’s Aria,” she said, gesturing to our nap-refusing daughter.

“It looks like you have your hands full.” Jean-Paul’s smile thinned in a way that had me standing a little taller. “I had hoped I might…” His words trailed off, his gaze sweeping our group again.

“Here,” my mom said, reaching for Tommy. “Why don’t we head to the ice cream shop, and you and Maven can meet us over there when you’re done talking with this gentleman?”

Reluctantly, I handed Tommy over, watching the group as they made their way out the doors.