Diva

Chapter 6

My weekend plans changed in a hurry. Originally, I had planned some lazy self-indulgence as a reward for completing another busy school year. Instead, I decided I’d better concentrate on laundry, house cleaning, and grocery shopping, as well as boning up on the treatment of hypoglycemia.

For my musical homework, I chose two different recordings of La Traviata from my growing CD collection. I wanted to be ready. Shortly after listening to Anna Netrebko sing the first aria, the exquisite music permeated me. Just thinking about Nicole singing that aria and being in such close proximity gave me goose bumps. I uttered a silent prayer I’d be able to hold it together during rehearsals so I could get my job done without behaving foolishly. More than once in my life, I’d embarrassed myself with an overly emotional public display.

My cell phone chirped from under a pile on the kitchen counter, and I scrambled to check the caller ID since I gave the number to Nicole. In fact, it wasn’t Nicole, and I tried to keep any hint of disappointment out of my voice when I answered.

“Hi, Liz. How are you?”

“I got your message, but I couldn’t call you back because we had company. What’s up?”

I could hear her stereo in the background. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes…oh my God! You found someone special and fell in love?” Liz’s voice went up an octave, indicating her excitement.

“Not exactly, but maybe the next best thing. Do you remember us talking about Nicole Bernard after seeing the opera?”

“Sure, the one who made the big impression, with the incredible voice?”

“The same. Well, when I got home on Thursday, the Santa Fe Opera called wanting to talk to me, in person. I drove up there and met with some of the staff, and they offered me a part-time job—are you ready for this? As Nicole Bernard’s personal assistant.” As I said the words, I could feel fluttering in my chest. I’d been so busy taking care of chores and preparing I hadn’t allowed the full impact to hit me.

“Shut up. How in the hell did that happen? You haven’t worked there for years—suddenly, bang!” Liz said. She knew what this meant to me.

“I guess they went through the files to find a former apprentice with some medical experience, and I fit the bill. I’m starting on Monday.”

“Oh Meg, that’s so exciting. What will your job entail?”

“I’m not sure. There’s no real job description because they’ve never needed it. I guess I’ll improvise. I did have to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“Meg, is this going to be hard for you? I know you were majorly crushing on this woman and you’ve been alone awhile…”

I was embarrassed when she reminded me of my crush. It was true, but I didn’t want to let it interfere with my job because this was too big an opportunity to blow. “When I first saw her it was incredibly awkward, but after we talked for a while it was fine. She’s a professional and a very kind person, and I think it will work out fine. She really needs some assistance, and honestly, I love being there with all the people and the music. I’ve missed it.”

“It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, and I know you’ll do a great job,” Liz said.

“Thanks a lot, I appreciate it. I had better get back to my chores. I have a ton of stuff to do before I head up there tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you in the loop. Send me good thoughts.”

“You know I will, hon. Take care.”

There was another car in the driveway when I arrived at Nicole’s summer residence, a late-model Honda. I rechecked my watch to make sure I wasn’t arriving at the wrong time. Nope, right on time. As I approached the front door, I could hear music through the open windows, and I paused before knocking. It was a piano, and it would run for a few bars then stop as two people started talking. When there was another pause, I knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Nicole called from somewhere back in the house. Nervous energy fluttered through me.

I entered cautiously, put my backpack near the door, and followed the sound of the voices to a sunny den off the kitchen containing a grand piano at one end and a couch and some chairs at the other. I saw a man seated at the piano marking up the score while Nicole stood next to him pointing out changes. Today she was wearing leggings and a soft brown smock.

She looked up at me and smiled. “Good morning, Meg. Please come in. I’d like you to meet Carl, my accompanist. This is my personal assistant, Meg Ellis.”

Carl stood and offered his hand, while Nicole gave me a quick hug. “We will finish in a few moments. You may sit with us, or perhaps you would like to make yourself some tea or coffee?”

“Thank you, I’ll leave you two alone and make myself busy.”

I slipped out and found my way to an enormous country kitchen. I could hear her singing softly as they reworked several phrases from the opening scenes. Her voice was soothing and velvety. I stood mesmerized. I really was in Nicole Bernard’s house listening to her singing. I wanted to pinch myself. Instead, I set about investigating the kitchen.

The refrigerator held a fair amount of fresh produce, fruit juice, bottled water, and a large pitcher of iced tea. I made a mental note to talk with her about what she liked and what kinds of products might affect her voice. Some singers were careful to avoid dairy products and some were careful about hot or cold beverages. I filled a teakettle on the stove, then started looking for tea or coffee.

I found myself enjoying the familiar melodies listening to Nicole sing as I quietly went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing like making yourself at home, is there? I set out three mugs, tea, sugar, and milk just as Nicole and Carl walked through to the living room and the front door. She returned to the kitchen while I poured the hot water.

“What a lovely treat. Too bad Carl had to rush off. I am delighted you made yourself at home instead of waiting for me.” She reached for the sugar, brushing against my arm and setting off a small tingle effect up to my neck. “Shall we sit at the table?”

“I’m glad you don’t mind,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I’d hate to get fired my first day.” A blush rose up my neck, furthering my embarrassment.

She laughed and shook her head. “Were the doctor’s notes any help for you?” Thank God, a medical topic. She tucked one leg under her, leaning across the table until we were only a foot or two apart. “If they were, maybe you could explain it to me.”

I prayed she wouldn’t notice the beads of perspiration across my hairline. “Actually, the notes were clear,” I said, leaning back in my chair because her closeness was unsettling. “Of course, I don’t have all the history. It looks like there’s a problem with the way you burn calories. Maybe you just have a fast metabolism. From the doctor’s orders it looks like he wants your blood sugar tested daily, and whenever you get light-headed, if ever.”

We both sipped our tea as I tried to stay focused. I explained the rationale for eating frequent protein snacks because they metabolized slower. She nodded at appropriate intervals, watching me intently. I tried to remember that English was not her first language and my high school French was pathetic.

After some discussion, we agreed to go through her appointment book so I could get an idea of her plans. She hopped out of her chair and riffled through a large briefcase near the couch to retrieve it. The number of social events required of her surprised me. There were several cocktail parties and interviews in addition to rehearsals and vocal coaching. I saw a scratched-out notation that her husband had been scheduled to visit in two weeks.

“Would you like to take a walk and I will show you around?” Nicole picked up both of our cups and took them to the kitchen sink. “Every Friday the housekeeper comes and she will manage the routine maintenance. The Goddard family lives here only part of the year but they have full-time help.”

The layout was very open and sunny; in addition to the clerestory windows there were dozens of skylights spaced between the large wooden vigas in the flat ceiling. At the end of the hall was the master suite, which was spacious and warm. French doors lead to a private balcony. The master bath contained a square sunken tub, glass shower stall, double sinks, and stone floors.

The French doors off the living room opened onto a large covered patio with outdoor wet bar and a built-in grill. Beyond the adobe wall, a path of cement block led to a small walled patio containing a hot tub. The path continued to a charming adobe guesthouse containing a living room, two bedrooms, bath, and a full kitchen.

She locked up the guesthouse and we walked back to the main house, which looked even more majestic against the bright blue sky from the lower vantage point.

“This home is breathtaking. Doesn’t it make you feel like a princess living here?” Lord, I sound like a country bumpkin. I stammered and said, “I’m sorry, that sounded so stupid. It’s just, well, I’ve seen houses like this, but I never really imagined people lived in them.” Damn.

Nicole took my arm as we rounded the corner of the patio. She patted my arm. “Do not be embarrassed. I must tell you I do not live like this at home. I have a very small house in the countryside and I have no servants. This does feel very special and I so appreciate their generosity. I hope that is not uncomfortable for you.”

“I promise you I will try very hard to get used to it, for your sake.” We both laughed.

The next four days were busy for both of us. We had to arrange appointments with the costume department, the music director, the vocal coach, her accompanist, and the PR department. As things seemed to smooth out and the weekend neared, she asked me if I would be willing to accompany her to a special luncheon on Saturday given in her honor by one of the benefactors. Attending fancy black-tie social events was not something I felt comfortable doing. Even though I was so shy, there was no way I could say no to her polite request.

That evening I hurried home to rummage through my closet, hoping to find something that was suitable for the luncheon. After years in the school system, I had virtually given up on owning nice clothes. Common wisdom will tell you nurses don’t dress up much after work, at least the nurses I know. Even though I worked in the schools, there was the ever-present danger of infectious bodily fluids from the children, aka Tiny Vectors of Disease.

When my closet failed to deliver, I gave up and went to the mall. I hate going to the mall as much as I hate shopping. Reluctantly, I parked the car a block from an entrance and schlepped back to the J. Crew store.

At least there were a few summer dresses left on the rack, surprising me since it was only the end of May. I hastily picked three to take into the dressing room. Two fit decently so I picked both, figuring I might need to attend some kind of formal function during my three-month tenure. The multicolored sleeveless sundress looked appropriate and actually flattered my figure. The black sheath would be useful with a scarf or sweater. They were both, pleasantly, a size smaller than usual.

A long overdue soaking in the tub Friday night with a glass of wine had me feeling incredulous at how the past week had just flown by. Spending so much time with Nicole was like being in high school again. Even though I’d acted nervous, silly, and awkward, I’d never felt more alive. I had to pinch myself ten times a day. The woman was not only beautiful and talented, but also so very kind to everyone with whom she worked. At every opportunity, she would hug and kiss all of us. Frequently she’d take my hand or put her arm around me at unexpected moments. It was thrilling and a little unnerving.

I wanted to call Liz. I wanted to tell someone how my feelings were growing, but I resisted. A thirty-two-year-old professional woman needed to act with a little decorum. In spite of my best efforts, the long-held attraction was flourishing.