Page 4 of Echoes of a Silent Song

“Ludwig van Beethoven was not exactly the poster child for healthy relationships.”

“Touché.”

Callum settled in the row in front of them, three seats to Joy’s right, and guzzled coffee as if it were his lifeline.He hadn’t waved or nodded or even acknowledged Blair’s existence.Fine with her.Though they needed to get along for the kids’ sake, they certainly didn’t have to be friends.

But Joy, ever the raging extrovert, had already leaned over so far in Callum’s direction that she nearly fell out of her seat.

“Hi.Joy Westinghouse.”She extended her right hand to Callum.“Orchestra.Eighth year.Married.Two kids, four cats, and a Sheltie.”

Callum blinked at the onslaught of information.“Callum Knight.”He tentatively returned Joy’s handshake.“Vocal music.Second day.Single.No kids, no cats, no Sheltie.”

Joy glanced over her shoulder at Blair, mischief curving her lips.Told you he was single, her look clearly said.

Blair made a face back.And I told you I don’t care.

“And this is my best friend in the whole world, Blair Emerson,” Joy said.“Who I think maybe you already met?”

Callum regarded Blair with a cursory glance.“Yes.”

Charming.

“Great,” Joy said.“And hey, since you’re both here and we’ve got a few minutes, I’ve been wondering what sort of repertoire the choir might be considering for the holiday concert.In case nobody told you, the orchestra and choir combine for that concert, and it’s never too early to start thinking about Christmas.”

Callum’s brows lifted.“It’s August.”

“We’ve been over this.No Christmas talk until at least September.”Blair delivered her automatic reply, then pulled up short.Had she and Callum just agreed on something?

Joy had definitely noticed, if her crimson-lipped grin was any indication.

Blair resisted the urge to roll her eyes.I see what you’re doing, best friend of mine.And it won’t work.

Joy’s grin grew even more devilish, a clear sign that she’d received Blair’s telepathic message and was cheerfully ignoring it.

“The fall concert is only the choirs, yes?”Callum asked over the rim of his mug.

“Yes,” Blair replied.

Callum muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Thank God” as he turned back around, but Ron Cashman, the principal, had stepped to the microphone, which squealed feedback as it always did, so she couldn’t be sure.

As Cashman launched into his falsely peppy introduction, Joy shot Blair a glance.A moment later Blair’s watch buzzed her wrist, and the tiny screen filled with a text from Joy.Grinning, Blair pulled her phone from her purse.The 2020s equivalent of passing notes.

You have to get along with him, you know.

Blair’s thumbs tapped the screen.

Who?Cash?We get along just fine.

The screen immediately filled with a string of eye-roll emojis.

You know perfectly well I’m not talking about Cash.Give Callum a chance.

Blair studied the unruly head of dark hair in the row in front of her.Callum dragged a hand through the mop, then shifted in his chair and drummed long, sturdy fingers against the armrest.His entire being radiated boredom.Superiority.An ego the size of Alaska.

She turned her attention back to her phone.

I did.He blew it.

Five minutes in the choir room before a staff meeting does not constitute a chance.You haven’t even seen him work with the kids yet.