Page 5 of Wisteria Winds (Wisteria Island #2)

C lara sat at the piano in the community center with her fingers hovering uncertainly over the keys.

It had been so many months since she’d played the piano, and longer still since she felt any desire to do so.

But after the enthusiastic invitation from the Wisteria Philharmonic, she was drawn here.

The small ensemble Bennett had described watched her, Janice with her violin, Frank clutching his clarinet, and Ted sitting ramrod straight beside his cello.

A tiny woman named Emmy Lou sat behind a surprisingly professional-looking drum kit in the back.

The people on Wisteria Island were definitely interesting characters.

She’d only met a few of them in passing, but she could tell this wasn’t some boring retirement community.

“We’re really honored to have you join us, Mrs. Whitman,” Janice said, her fun pink-tinged hair bobbing as she nodded excitedly. “We’re not professionals, but we enjoy making music together. I’m also very involved in the square dancing community here, if you want to join us.”

Clara thought, definitely not. Although she loved music, dancing was not her thing.

“Please call me Clara,” she said, feeling oddly nervous. She’d certainly played in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people before, but for some reason, she felt very exposed sitting in the community center of Wisteria Island.

“What piece were you all working on before I arrived?”

The four of them exchanged glances.

“Well, we were attempting Pachelbel’s Canon, ” Ted said, “although we fear we weren’t doing it justice. But who cares? We’re just an informal little group of music lovers. We won’t play in the middle of New York City or anything.”

Clara nodded and smiled as she placed her hands on the keys, playing the song’s opening notes.

The familiar melody flowed from her fingers, muscle memory taking over, even though she’d had such a long absence from playing the piano.

The others joined in, slowly, one by one, each of them hesitant at first, but then she could feel their confidence growing under her steady guidance.

It wasn’t perfect—far from it. Frank came in a beat too early, and Emmy Lou’s drumming was more enthusiastic than precise.

This song didn’t require drums, but there she was.

Janice occasionally hit notes that made Clara wince internally, but there was just something undeniably joyful in their playing.

They had a genuine love for music that transcended the technical limitations they obviously had.

When they reached the final measures, Clara found herself smiling. For the first time since Robert’s death, a real smile reached her eyes. Music had always been their shared language, and playing it with these strangers gave her a connection to him again that felt comforting and not so painful.

“Wow, that was wonderful!” Janice exclaimed when they were finished. “You’re a natural teacher, Clara.”

“Well, all of you play with a ton of heart,” Clara said. “And with some practice, I think we could make something special.”

“So does that mean you’ll come back next week?” Ted asked hopefully.

“Yes, I believe I will,” Clara said.

As they packed up their instruments, they chatted about future repertoire possibilities, and Clara felt a small weight lift from her shoulders.

Of course, she wasn’t ready to stand up and conduct, but this small, imperfect ensemble offered something she desperately needed—a reason to engage with the world of music again, one note at a time.

* * *

M orty paced outside Dorothy’s cottage, trying to gather his courage before knocking. The former movie star rarely welcomed visitors, certainly not unexpected ones, but he needed her help with the most ambitious project he’d ever taken on: Danielle and Bennett’s wedding.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a long moment, it opened with a crack, revealing Dorothy’s elegantly aged face.

“Morty, good lord, what on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, Dorothy,” he laughed. “Hardly the crack of dawn.”

She waved a dismissive hand as she opened the door wider. “You know, I was in the middle of my beauty regimen. This doesn’t happen by accident, you know.” She gestured at her immaculately made-up face.

“And you look absolutely fabulous, darling, as always. May I come in? I have a proposition for you.”

Dorothy narrowed her eyes suspiciously but opened the door and allowed him in.

“This had better be good. And if my face doesn’t get moisturized properly, I’m going to look like I have elephant skin.”

Morty stepped into the lavishly decorated cottage and was still impressed by Dorothy’s Hollywood glamor. He’d visited her many times before, of course. They were fairly good friends, or as close of a friend as you could be to Dorothy.

She led him to a sitting area that had framed movie posters and awards from her illustrious career and pointed toward the emerald green velvet sofa that she’d kept from her home in Hollywood decades ago.

“So what’s this proposition?” she asked, lighting a cigarette with a gold lighter. Morty had tried to get her to quit the habit, but she still thought it was glamorous and said she was so old now that it didn’t matter what cigarettes did to her body. She felt like she had cheated fate for years.

“It’s about Danielle and Bennett’s wedding. I’m helping plan it, and I need someone with, well, let’s just say star quality to make it truly special.”

Dorothy looked interested. “Go on.”

“Well, you were the queen of romantic films in your day. No one understood love and drama better than you did, and your taste is obviously impeccable.” He gestured around her home. “I need your expertise to make this the most memorable wedding Wisteria Island has ever seen.”

“Has Wisteria Island ever seen a wedding?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Well, flattery will get you everywhere, Morty,” she said. “But why should I care about their wedding?”

Morty leaned forward. “Because Danielle is one of the few people who has never treated you like a relic or a curiosity. She sees you as a person, not just a former star. And because,” he paused dramatically, “I happen to know that her mother, Cecilia Wright, is a huge fan of yours. She arrived today and will be trying to convince Danielle to have a big society wedding in New York instead of here on the island.”

Dorothy’s eyes widened. “Cecilia Wright. Isn’t that… isn’t her mother some big doctor? Some brilliant woman?”

“Yes, she is. And she’s determined to take this wedding away from us unless we can prove the island can host something so spectacular that she couldn’t do the same in New York City.

I mean, think of it. If they took the wedding off the island, we wouldn’t be able to attend, and I know you like to attend a fancy event. ”

Dorothy took a long drag on her cigarette. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? I mean, this island might be full of eccentrics, but this is our home. And she’s part of our family. And I do owe Danielle for her discretion… regarding my medical issues.”

Morty beamed. “So you’ll help me?”

“I’ll do more than help, darling. I’ll ensure this wedding is so fabulous that even Cecilia Wright will be impressed.” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Now, tell me everything you’ve planned so far, and then we’ll figure out where you’ve gone wrong.”

* * *

“D r. Wright, it’s Bennett Alexander. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Bennett stood at the door of Cecilia’s guest cottage, wearing his best tailored slacks and a crisp button-down shirt, even though the island was a pretty casual atmosphere. Cecilia opened the door and looked refreshed after her journey. He figured she must have gotten a good nap.

“Not at all, Bennett. And please, I insist you call me Cecilia.”

“Well, I thought you might enjoy a nice island tour before dinner, get your bearings, and maybe meet some of our residents.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cecilia said, slipping on a pair of comfortable walking shoes and holding her heels in her hand. “Lead the way!”

They strolled along the winding paths of Wisteria Island as Bennett pointed out different amenities - the community center with its library and game room, the small medical clinic where Danielle spent most of her days, and the charming open-air market they had just started, where residents sold homemade crafts and baked goods.

“Wow, you’ve really created a self-contained little world here.”

“Well, that was the goal,” Bennett said.

“You know, a place where people can age with dignity and independence and be surrounded by friends, community, and beauty. My grandmother spent her final years in a sterile facility where she was treated mostly like a burden rather than a person who held a lifetime of wisdom and had stories to share. But I was way too young back then to do anything about it, and the first moment I had the chance, I bought this island.”

Her expression softened slightly. “That’s very admirable, though I must say it still is not what I envisioned for my daughter’s career path. You know, Danielle was on track for a very prestigious position at Columbia Presbyterian.”

He nodded, choosing his words carefully.

“I know she was, and I’m sure she was exceptional at it because she’s exceptional here.

But on Wisteria Island, she’s not just treating people’s symptoms; she’s caring for the whole person.

She knows every single resident’s medical history, yes, but she also knows their favorite books and their grandchildren’s names.

She knows their secret recipes.” He smiled.

“I believe she would tell you that she’s found her calling. ”

Before Cecilia could respond, they were interrupted by an older man with a jaunty bow tie and a tablet tucked under his arm. He couldn’t have been five feet tall.