Face the Music (47 page)

“We wouldn’t all fit in
to
a cab,” Chris laughed, gesturing towards the door.  “Come on, ladies first.”

The interior was unbelievable.  On either side of the hardwood walkway were two
,
long, black leather benches.  There was a wet bar and
, not one
but two
,
flat-panel TV’s with DV
D players.  Pink and blue fiber
optic cables swirled along the ceiling and sides.

Chris climbed in and sat beside me, pulling me against his side.  “Now
,
this is a car.”  He leaned back against the seat and looked up at the mirrored ceiling.  “You know, if I tilt my head just
the right way, I can almost see-
”

I glanced up and i
mmediately knew what he
was
doing. 
I pushed my arms together, held my head back, and leaned forward to expose more cleavage.  “Better?”

He pull
ed
on my shirt, but I smacked his hand away.  “No!” I laughed.

“Aw, come on.  No one will see.”

I ignored him and readjusted myself in the seat.  “So
,
how many people exactly
are we picking up?”

“Seventeen.”

“Are you kidding?  That’s more than five times the size of my family.”  I tried to imagine what it would be like to have that many living, breathing family members.

“They’re not all
related
.  Some are friends.”

“Still, that’s a lot.”

We got to the busy terminal
at O’Hare
and waited just outside of security.  After a bit, a short, plump, dark-haired woman caught Chris’s attention. 

“Mom!”  He took her bags and hugged her tightly.  “It’s so good to see you.  How was your flight?”

“It wasn’t too bad.”  She returned his hug and kissed his cheek before turning to look at me.  “
You must be Allison.
”
 
I held out my hand, but she stepped past it and wrapped her arms around me.  “It’s nice to finally meet you!  Chris has told me a lot.”

More people joined our little group, and I was introduced to Chris’s dad, his sister and niece, three brothers, a slew of in-laws, two cousins, and a few friends.  By the time I got through everyone, my head was whirling with all the names and faces.  I wondered if I’d ever keep them all straight.

We piled into the limo after retrieving their luggage.  Chris
sat on my right
,
and his sister
Susan, on my left.  There was barely enough room with all the people and their bags, so we had to sit really close.  I wondered if it would have been better if I’d stayed behind. 

The car was noisy with all the conversation
s.  One of his brothers, Robert,
I think, started poking buttons and turned on the CD player.  A Korn song blared at full volume.

Hannah, Chris’s niece, started to cry.

Her
mother cupped her hands over her ears.  “Robert!”

“Sor-
ry!” he said defensively, turning down the volume.  “I’m trying to turn on the TV.”

“There’ll be TV at the hotel,” Susan said, giving her brother a reprimanding look.  “I think you’ll survive a little while longer.”

He sneered at her.  “Yeah, but how many
other chances
will I
have to watch
it
in a limo?”

She rolled her eyes and turned to me.  “We’re kind of crazy.  Don’t let that scare you.”

Chris laughed and
pointed a finger at his sister
.  “She’s the crazy one.  Watch out.”

She reached around me and smacked
his
arm.

The ride back to my apartment was bittersweet.  I enjoyed watching everyone together, all the teasing and nitpicking, the laughter, but I was also reminded of how much I missed my own family. 

When we reached my building, Chris stepped out and stood on the sidewalk with me. 
“
Will yo
u have dinner with us tonight?”

“Dinner?  Oh, I don’t know. 
I don’t
want to barge in on your visit.”

He looked at me like I was a
lunatic
.  “Why would you even say something like that?  I want you to come.”  He held my arms against my sides and planted a trail of little kisses down the curve of my neck.  Someone inside the car let out a wolf-whistle, but he ignored it.

My willpower vanished.  “If you insist.”

I felt his lips curve into a smile against my skin.  “I do.  Meet us at the hotel at six, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, nearly breathless.

Chris and his family left, and
I went upstairs a
nd found Emily on the couch.  I sat next to her, and s
he glanced away from a commercial.  “What’s up?”
she asked.

“I just met Chris’s family.”  I paused when a clip about the show came on.  The announcer was comparing fan polls, trying to predict the results of the finale.  From the look of things, Chris was the clear favorite.  “He wants me to meet them for dinner tonight.”

Emily smiled at me.  “
That’s big
.
”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”  I mused over her choice of words
, considering the number of people involved
.  “You can’t imagine how big.  I went with
him
to pick them up from the airport.  They were all
very
nice,
b
ut the entire way home
,
all I thought about were Mom and Grams and Gramps.”

***

Chris and his mom were waiting in the lobby.  She was sitting in an oversized chair, and he was leaning against the fireplace mantle.  They looked like they were having a serious discussion. 

He looked right past me when I walked in. 

“Hi,” I said, raising my hand to wave.  I hoped I hadn’t interrupted something important.

He looked at me again, and it took a full second before he knew who I was. 
He blinked and shook his head. 
“I didn’t even re
cognize you.  You look great!”

I smiled, glad he’d noticed my effort.  Emily had helped me run a flat-iron through my hair, and I wore a l
ong, flowery skirt with a light-
blue cami.  “Thanks.  Hi, Mrs. Knots.”

“Hi, honey,” she said, sta
nding up for a hug.  “P
lease, call me Judy.”

I looked around and noticed we were the only three there. 
“Where is everyone?”
I asked.

“Around,” Chris said, shrugging.  “In their rooms, out exploring the city, who knows?  I thought it’d be better with just the three of us, le
ss intimidating.  Mom wanted a chance to get to know you
better
.”

I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to remember everyone’s names.

“Things were so hectic before,” Judy
explained
.  “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you.”

We were seated at a table inside the hotel’s restaurant. 
Chris excused himself for the restroom, and
Judy
jumped on the opportunity to talk privately.

She gave me a
serious
but loving look. 
“
I think you’re a lovely girl.”

I blushed.  “Thank you.”

She continued, “I know that you and Chris are under a lot of pressure right now, but you can’t let that get you down.”

Her frankness was surprising.  “I’m sorry, what?” 

She looked in the direction Chris had gone.  “I’m not normally one to meddle in the lives of my
children
, but Chris told me a little bit about what’s been happening lately.”  She reached across the table and patted my hand
, fixing me with a motherly stare
.  “The media are relentless a
nd will do anything for a story,
whether or not it’s honest.  And people, well, they can be very critical.  Just keep your head up and listen to your heart.”

I was too stunned to say anything.  Chris talked about me with his mother?  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

She winked at me and pulled her hand away
when
Chris
came around the corner
.  “Take some advice from an old lady.”

“You’re hardly old,” I
said, laughing
.

“Even still,” she said, winking.

“What
are
you two gossiping about?” Chris asked, looking at his mother and then at me.

Judy looked up at her son and smiled.  “We’ll never tell.”

It wasn’t long before the waiter came to take our orders.  The food was delicious and the conversation was comfortable, and
I decided I
liked Judy a lot.  She was
warm and sincere, much like her son.  She reminded me a lot of Grams.

After dinner we went back
out
to the lobby.  Chris led us to a black
,
baby-grand piano and took a seat on the bench.  At first
,
he just tinkered with the keys, plinking out simple little melodies like
Row-Row-Row Your Boat
and
Twinkle
,
Twinkle Little
Star
.

“Let’s play Name That T
une,” he said.

“
So
easy,” I laughed after he finished the theme from
The Young and the Restless
.  “I didn’t know you were a soap opera fan.  We may have to rethink this relationship.”

He groaned.  “My sister was an addict. 
I
t’s a wonder I turned out
the way I did
.”

I laughed.  “Is this all you’ve got?”

A smile touched his lips.  “Okay, see if you can guess this one.” 
H
e got serious.  Concentration lines wrinkled his forehead as he leaned forward and played.  His fingers flowed effortlessly over the keys, and when he came to a particularly melodic sequence, his eyebrows pulled together in a tight line.

The song was beautiful
,
but not something I recognized.  It had a contempora
ry feel to it, filled with fast-
paced runs and sections of slower, expressive harmonies.  I enjoyed it very much and applauded when
his fingers came to a rest.