Page 40 of The Last Special Thing

When he smiled, she melted.

“Here, I think you’ll like this.” She turned up an MGK song.

He took it in and found the rhythm tapping against his knee. He squinted as he beat. “Yeah, this is good. You have quite the ear, Amelia.”

They cruised the rest of the way back in contentment.

When they returned, Art bounded for the kitchen. Madisson had vacated the area, sitting on the couch with Max. Four bowls of spaghetti were set on the kitchen table, a mismatched fork and a paper napkin next to each.

Amelia plopped on the arm of the couch nearest Madisson and watched Art as he made four gin and tonics, garnished with a lime, then distributed them.

“We are celebrating today.” Art raised his glass.

“Because the cashiers at Ralph’s don’t think you’re worth the chase?” Amelia teased.

“Well, yes. But no. I got a job as a dishwasher.”

They clinked their glasses together and took a sip.

“You waited all day to tell me?” Amelia asked in disbelief as she found a seat at the table.

“I wanted it to be a moment!” Art gestured grandly.

Madisson clapped. “Oh, that’s amazing!”

“Nice, Bro,” Max added.

Madisson took another sip of her drink as she pulled out her chair, letting it scrape against the linoleum floor. “Well, I think that’s great.”

“It’s temporary, of course. Until I find something better.” Art took the seat next to Amelia.

She put her palm against his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

His eyes left hers as a blush crept up his cheeks.

“Dig in!” Madisson raised her fork.

It felt more like a family dinner than Amelia had had in months.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

During Amelia’s Tuesday morning vocal lesson, she practiced the Alexander Technique, focusing on balance and posture. Coach Patricia circled her like a shark. The woman had curly red hair and a freckled, pudgy face with deep creases. Amelia had always been curious about how old she was. Coach Patricia highlighted her career on Broadway, notably a two-year stint in “Annie,” but Amelia knew better than to ask how long ago that was.

“Again.” Patricia snapped.

She took a deep breath and sang “Matchmaker” from Fiddler on the Roof. Straightening her back, her voice filled the room. Coach Patricia was the only person in Amelia’s life to whom she never spoke back. While Amelia had never been physically harmed in her life, if she had to guess one person who would slap her without thinking twice, it would be Coach.

The woman eyed her carefully.

Amelia belted the lyrics, expanding her entire chest. When her rendition came to a close, Coach Patricia stopped in front of her.

With a straight face, she remarked, “That was good.”

Amelia’s eyes grew wide. “Acceptable” was the highest compliment she had earned in the four years she had been at the studio.

“You mean it?” Amelia’s eyes widened.

Patricia gave a nod so slight that Amelia wasn’t convinced she saw it.