Richard’s eyes flickered down to her pregnant belly, then quickly away. Yes, we’ve heard good things about your voice. Patricia, shall we get started with the sound check? He didn’t acknowledge that he knew her.
Didn’t mention their past. Acted as if she were a complete stranger hired for a job. Margaret felt something inside her shift.
She had been worried about breaking down in front of him, about crying or losing her composure. But now, watching him pretend she meant nothing, she felt something different. Anger.
Not the hot, explosive kind. But cold, clear anger that made her think with absolute clarity, I’m going to survive this. And more than that, I’m going to show him that he didn’t break me.
Richard Darling, the florist is asking about, oh. A beautiful blonde woman in a designer dress walked into the ballroom and stopped when she saw Margaret. This had to be Claire Stevens, the bride.
Claire was everything Margaret was not. Tall, slender, elegant, with perfect makeup and hair that looked like it had been styled by a professional. Her dress probably cost more than Margaret’s entire wardrobe.
Diamond earrings sparkled at her ears. She looked at Margaret’s pregnant belly, and a small frown appeared on her flawless face. And who is this? Claire asked, though her tone suggested she already knew Margaret wasn’t part of their social circle.
This is the singer, Richard said quickly. Margaret Williams. She’ll be performing at the ceremony.
Claire’s eyes swept over Margaret from head to toe, taking in the simple dress, the pregnant belly, the worn shoes. Margaret could see the judgment in those eyes. I see, Claire said coolly.
Well I hope you know appropriate wedding songs. Nothing too, emotional or personal. We want elegant and traditional.
Of course, Margaret said keeping her voice steady. I have the song list right here. She held up her folder.
Patricia jumped in cheerfully. Margaret comes highly recommended. Her voice is absolutely beautiful.
Shall we do a sound check? For the next 30 minutes, Margaret sang through the traditional wedding songs while a sound technician adjusted the microphone levels. She sang Ave Maria, and the wedding song, and at last. Her voice filled the enormous ballroom, rich and pure and heartbreakingly beautiful.
Despite herself Claire looked impressed. Even Richard standing with his arms crossed at the back of the room, seemed to be listening carefully. When Margaret finished there was a moment of silence.
Then Patricia started clapping. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
You’re going to be perfect. Richard walked toward the stage his face unreadable. He stopped a few feet away from Margaret and looked at her directly for the first time.
Your voice is still good, he said quietly so only she could hear. I’m glad you’re able to work. I’m sure you need the money.
The cruelty in those words, masked as concern, made Margaret’s hands clench. But she smiled sweetly and said just as quietly, Thank you for the opportunity Mr. Cole. I’m very grateful.
She emphasized Mr. Cole, making it clear she was treating him as a stranger, a client, nothing more. Something flashed in Richard’s eyes, was it annoyance? But he turned away without another word. After the rehearsal ended, Margaret gathered her sheet music and headed toward the exit.
Her heart was pounding and she felt exhausted but she had done it. She had survived seeing Richard without falling apart. She was almost to the ballroom doors when she heard footsteps behind her.
Excuse me? Miss Williams? Margaret turned to find Claire standing there alone. Up close, Margaret could see that despite all her beauty and elegance Claire looked tired. There were tiny worry lines around her eyes that makeup couldn’t quite hide.
Yes. Margaret said carefully. Claire hesitated as if choosing her words carefully.
Your voice really is remarkable. Where did you train? I didn’t go to a fancy music school if that’s what you’re asking, Margaret said trying not to sound offensive. I learned from my grandmother and from singing in church.
I wasn’t trying to insult you, Claire said softly. I genuinely meant it as a compliment. There’s something in your voice, something real and raw that trained singers sometimes lose.
Margaret didn’t know what to say to that. Claire looked down at Margaret’s pregnant belly. When are you due? February, Margaret answered.
Your first. Yes. An awkward silence fell between them.
Then Claire said something unexpected. Can I ask you something? And please be honest. Margaret’s heart started racing.
Okay. Claire’s perfect composure cracked just slightly. Do you think? Do you think Richard is a good man? The question hung in the air between them like a bomb waiting to explode.
Margaret stared at Claire completely shocked by the question. Her mind raced. What should she say? Should she tell this woman the truth? That Richard was the father of her baby? That he had abandoned her when she needed him most? That he was cruel and selfish and cared only about money and status? But looking at Claire’s face, Margaret saw something she hadn’t expected.
Doubt. Fear. And underneath all that expensive makeup and perfect hair, a woman who was already questioning her own choice.
Why are you asking me that? Margaret said carefully. Claire glanced back at the ballroom doors making sure they were alone. I don’t know.
Maybe because you’re the first person I’ve met today who doesn’t seem impressed by him. Everyone else treats Richard like he’s perfect. My parents, my friends, the wedding planners.
But you, when you looked at him I saw something different in your eyes. Margaret’s throat felt tight. What did you see? Recognition, Claire said quietly.
Like you’ve seen the real him. The person behind the expensive suits and charming smile. Margaret wanted to scream the truth.
She wanted to tell Claire everything. But she also knew that wasn’t her place. Claire was an adult making her own choices.
And more practically if Margaret told the truth now she might lose this job. She might lose the $3,000 that meant survival for her and her baby. So instead, Margaret said carefully, I think only you can answer whether Richard is a good man.
I’m just the singer. I don’t know him well enough to judge. It was technically true.
And it was also a complete lie. Claire studied Margaret’s face for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking a stranger to help me decide about my own wedding. I’m sorry.
That was inappropriate. It’s okay, Margaret said softly. Wedding nerves are normal.
Claire smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. Yes. Wedding nerves.
That must be it. She turned to walk away then stopped. Margaret, thank you for being kind to me.
Most people just tell me how lucky I am to be marrying Richard. It’s nice to talk to someone who listens instead. Margaret watched Claire walk back into the ballroom, her expensive heels clicking on the marble floor.
And in that moment, Margaret felt something unexpected. Pity. Because Claire Stevens with all her money and beauty and perfect life, was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.
And Margaret couldn’t save her. That night Margaret couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about Claire’s question.
She kept remembering the doubt in the other woman’s eyes. At two in the morning Margaret got out of bed and sat at her keyboard. She pulled out the sheet music for You Left Me But Love Stayed, her original song that told the truth about Richard’s betrayal.
Her hands trembled as she played through it again. The song was powerful. It was honest.
And if she sang it at the wedding, really sang it not the safe traditional songs, everyone would know the truth. The guests would understand that Richard wasn’t the perfect man they thought he was. Claire would know she was marrying someone who had abandoned a pregnant woman.
But Margaret would also lose her three thousand dollars. She might even be thrown out before she could finish the performance. And Richard would find a way to make her pay for embarrassing him…
