In An Instant, Ch. 22

Chapter 22. Eroica

The night Beth stood on the stage at Powell Hall in St. Louis and heard the audience roar its approval, she knew the sweet taste of triumph. She was here at last, after a detour that she thought had ended all chance of realizing her dream.

The crazy seven-week ordeal was over. A couple little venues, Evander had said. Right. A recital in Atlanta. Two last minute calls, asking her to drop everything and catch a plane; two sub gigs with regional orchestras… a phone call on the road that extended a two-day trip to nearly a week.

Seven weeks of broken promises, canceled lessons, toddler tantrums and no sleep. Seven weeks of awkward conversations with Dean, laced with thinly-veiled mutual resentment.

And now, her big break. St. Louis was a world-class symphony. This performance would get her recognized across the country… she hoped, anyway. She couldn’t keep this up much longer. She’d almost cried when she saw the name on the caller ID—at least, until she heard the glee in his voice. “St. Louis, sweetheart. The guy’s grandmother is on her deathbed in Luxembourg. He’s supposed to play the Poulenc on Saturday. But you’ve got to tell me yes or no right now. They’re not sure they want to risk an ingénue anyway. By tomorrow they’ll have figured something else out.”

“Yes,” she’d sighed, and dropped everything to practice Poulenc four hours a day for three days.

The whisper of shuffling feet on wood floorboards made her want to weep for joy. Of course, the orchestra would acknowledge every soloist they accompanied—but that didn’t make the moment any less special. Beth felt her back grow straighter. She took another bow and smiled across the darkened sea of faces, drowning in applause that went on and on. Seven wretched weeks. But here, in this moment, it was all worthwhile.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Evander said when she re-entered the wings after her fourth curtain call. “You did it!”

Symphony members began to file past, shaking her hand as they offered warm congratulations. Beth took a deep breath. She felt hyper-aware of every detail, from the stark shadow cast by the lights shining through the stage door, to the way each wisp of hair at her neck shifted in the breeze from the heaters. She was invulnerable. She was a goddess.

Beth laughed at herself. She ought to be thinking in less selfish terms. She ought to be grateful for the opportunity to share the music she loved with a wider audience. But tonight, somehow, she couldn’t banish the narcissist within. No wonder people went weird when they became famous. How could you stay grounded at a moment like this?

“Beth?”

She turned. “Prescott!”

He crossed the wing and swung her around, laughing. “You were fantastic!” he said, kissing her cheek.

“How’d you get back here?”

He jerked his head toward the stage. “Benny’s my violinist at church. It’s so good to see you!” He held both her hands, smiling. “So how’re you doing, anyway?”

“Better now,” she said, expelling tension on a breath. “It’s been crazy, getting to this point.”

“Don’t gripe,” said Evander. “Nobody gets this kind of a break.”

“I’m not griping,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying it’s been tough. Rearranging schedules so I can catch flights, and all that.”

“It’d be easier if you’d move back to New York, you know,” said Evander. “You’d save yourself the drive.”

“Or Boston?” Beth said.

“Or St. Louis.” Prescott waggled his eyebrows.

Beth laughed. “Don’t encourage him, Prescott.”

“So are you staying for the rest of the concert?” Prescott asked as Evander turned his attention to one of the symphony musicians.

“Yeah. I figured I’d listen from back here.”

“You want to grab a drink after?”

“Oh…” Beth hesitated as the air drained out of her fantasy of invulnerability. Nothing sounded better right now than a drink with Prescott, but she couldn’t. “I promised I’d call Dean afterwards.”

He nodded. “Of course. How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know. Toby’s not with me. I ought to get home first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on. He’s staying with your folks, right?” She nodded. “He’ll be fine. How often do you get a chance to be free for a few days?” The lights in the auditorium dimmed, then came back to full power, signaling the end of intermission. Prescott looked up. “I better get back to my seat. Call me, okay?” He planted another kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations, Beth!”

It was late by the time she got back to the hotel. She tossed her clutch and her jacket on a table by the window and collapsed in a chair beside it. It was eerily quiet. She wasn’t used to being alone. She felt twitchy, nervous, restless. She leaped up and pressed her fingers to the window. It was cold. Below her, the city stretched out in a twinkling grid of color bound by a ribbon of black river and a darkened arch soaring above.

It was bewitching, this trip. She remembered Wesley Alcott’s face, after the recital on Beacon Hill. He’d had no idea how good she was. To him, the recital had been a lark—a halfhearted attempt to support his grandson’s mother. But the sophisticated audience of Boston socialites had been more than warm and welcoming. Now he knew she was the real deal. The pressure to leave Iowa and settle in Boston mounted with every phone call, and although Beth was afraid to admit it, the idea was growing on her.

For just a moment, Beth tried to imagine herself living amid that sprawling metropolis, studded with cultural venues of all kinds. She envisioned tonight’s triumph played out again and again—the roar of the crowd, the hiss of shuffling feet at her back. In Boston, she could achieve her potential as a performer. There was no doubt in her mind. And in Boston, Toby would grow up surrounded by history. The idea made her heart beat faster.

She wrenched her head out of the clouds. Boston was the Alcotts’ territory. They would pay for a lavish lifestyle for her and Toby—and their largesse, as she knew, came at a heavy price. They would control every facet of her life. Toby would attend exclusive prep schools and the Ivy League and be totally out of touch with reality. No. Boston wasn’t an options.

What about St. Louis, though? That would be the best of both worlds: a big metro area within driving distance of home. And Prescott was already here, ready to help her get her feet under her professionally. She wished she could go for that drink, just to talk it over with him. Because she was willing to bet the Alcotts would spring for an apartment here, too. The only downside was leaving Dean.

She sighed and reached for her phone.

“Hey,” he answered the phone. “How’d it go?”

“It was unbelievable. The hall is so beautiful. And you should see the foyer. The whole place is done in this white marble and red carpet. It’s like a palace. It makes you feel rich, just walking in. And the acoustics in that place…” She trailed off. She sounded like a tour guide, not a girlfriend. “It was amazing,” she finished lamely.

“Sounds like it. Sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Beth heard whispering in the background. “Have you got somebody there?” she asked.

“Caleb. He couldn’t handle the bickering at home. Hang on.” At the other end of the line, Dean’s voice grew muffled. “There’s blankets and pillows in the hall closet upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Poor kid,” Beth said.

“Yeah. But Mom likes having him here.”

“How was she today?”

“She’s sick. She was up half the night hacking.” Dean sighed; she heard him shift. “Sorry, Beth, I’m lousy company tonight. I’m just really wiped.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” She fiddled with the room service menu lying on the table beside her.

“Did you talk to your mom tonight?” he asked. “How’s Toby?”

“He’s fine.” It was the uncomfortable, stilted conversation of two people who barely knew each other. Beth swallowed to banish the vague queasiness hovering in the back of her throat, but it didn’t really work.

The muffled voice on the other end spoke again. “Aw, crap,” Dean said. “Beth, Mom’s puking. I gotta go. Call me when you get in.”

“Okay. Are you…?” But the line was already dead.

Deflated, she flipped her phone shut and stared at the winking city stretched out below her. A night like this—the triumph, the excitement—and no one to share it with.

She chewed her lip for a minute, debating. It wasn’t like it was a date. Just a drink with a friend and former colleague. She thumbed her phone again. “Prescott?” she said. “Are you still up for that drink?”

Share

For the next chapter, click here.

In an Instant, Copyright 2026 Kathleen M. Basi. No part of this may be reprinted, or used to train AI, without written permission. Sharing this post, however? That, the author wholeheartedly approves of.

Seriously. Share.

Share