You could write a song about some kind of emotional problem you are having, but it would not be a good song, in my eyes, until it went through a period of sensitivity to a moment of clarity. Without that moment of clarity to contribute to the song, it's just complaining.
-Joni Mitchell
Across town from Beckett, Castle was also receiving a sudden influx of phone calls. In his case they were mostly sycophants angling for last-minute free tickets, or his friends from the rock music world calling to give him crap for getting involved in classical music. He was happy to chat with them for most of the morning, until his throat began to feel dry and tired; then he started letting the calls go to voicemail. He settled down at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee, a large slice of cheesecake, and his Messiah score for some final studying.
By 11:00, neither his mother nor his daughter had appeared from upstairs. Their keys were on the little table by the front door, so he knew they were home, although he had no idea how late Martha might have gotten in. He himself had gone to bed at a reasonable hour for once, thanks to Alexis's intervention.
He took his tuxedo out of the closet and carefully loaded it into a garment bag. He packed his Messiah score and other assorted papers into his briefcase. Then, belatedly reconsidering the wisdom of conducting an entire concert on just one slice of cheesecake, he threw together a quick sandwich and ate it, along with an apple, feeling very virtuous.
He was just starting to write a note to his women when Alexis appeared at the top of the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Morning, pumpkin!" he trilled, and the teenager winced.
"It's way too early for you to be that cheerful, Dad," she complained, coming down the stairs. He moved quickly to pour her a cup of coffee.
"It's after eleven," he pointed out with a grin, watching Alexis load up her cup with cream and sugar. She gave him a glare, which he accepted with equanimity. To be fair, on a normal Saturday he would be the one stumbling groggily out of bed at this hour. But this wasn't a normal Saturday.
"Don't forget the concert starts at one," he said, earning himself another glare. "You're in charge of getting Gram up and presentable, and getting her there on time."
"She's already in the shower," Alexis reported, which was a relief.
He cut a smaller slice of cheesecake, put it on a plate with some fruit, set the plate in front of his half-awake daughter, and departed.
Kate got to Symphony Hall at 11:30 with her violin, purse, and her concert clothing. Instead of the usual plain black trousers and black blouse that she wore for most orchestra performances, she had brought a black dress - the one she usually saved for particularly significant concerts, such as when there were visiting dignitaries in attendance, or when the orchestra traveled to prestigious locations.
The dress was velvet, with a dramatically low cowl neck and a full ankle-length skirt. It was nowhere near as flashy as the gowns usually worn by vocal soloists, but it would work nicely for her dual role as first violinist and soprano.
She made her way to the dressing rooms in the basement and stowed her belongings in a locker. It was early yet; only a few other musicians were here, and the halls were mostly quiet, though several of the soundproofed practice-room doors were closed.
Normally, at this point on concert day, Perlmutter would be rampaging around like a grouchy goblin, coming up with half a dozen suddenly urgent matters that he needed Kate to personally take care of before the concert could begin. It was positively restful without him around. She smiled to herself at the thought as she went back up the stairs to the administrative area.
"What's so funny?" asked Castle, entering the hallway from the front. She startled, but turned her smile to him, a little bashful now.
"Oh, nothing. I was just remembering how crazed Perlmutter always gets just before a concert." She studied Castle carefully. "Nervous?"
"Just a little," he shrugged. "You?"
"Just a little," she echoed, ducking her head in embarrassment, because it wasn't really accurate. But she was going to be fine.
"I had a thought about something Detective Gates said," Castle burbled cheerfully, and she groaned, but he blithely ignored it and went on. "She said, 'next time leave the murder investigation to the professionals.'"
"Yeah?" Kate replied, wondering where he was going with this. "So?"
"So ... first of all, 'next time'? That's either very optimistic or very pessimistic of her," he grinned.
Kate huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's just a figure of speech-"
"I know, I know," he cut in. "But more importantly, what if we were the professionals?"
She stared at him, completely bemused. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I looked up how to get a private investigator's license in New York State," he told her excitedly. "It's really not that complicated at all. You and I could totally do it, and then we could be PIs together on the side. Like Hart To Hart. Starsky and Hutch. Turner and Hooch."
Kate felt her jaw drop and knew it probably looked ridiculous, but she honestly couldn't decide whether he was serious or not.
"You do remind me a little of Hooch," she managed after a moment, and he snickered appreciatively.
"See? We make a great team. I'm telling you, Beckett." He grinned, and she shook her head, closing her eyes briefly at the ridiculousness of him.
"Castle ... are you forgetting that Starsky and Hutch were actual police officers? For that matter, so were Turner and Hooch. And as for the Harts, they weren't even licensed PIs. They were just rich socialites who happened to run into murders everywhere they went."
Now it was Castle's turn to stare. "Do you have any idea how much it excites me that you know all of that?" he exclaimed, awestruck. Kate groaned and rolled her eyes.
"Castle!"
"Kate," he said, stepping a little closer to her and lowering his voice. Her breathing quickened as she looked at him, wondering if he was going to try to kiss her again. Oh, she wanted him to, so very much - but not here, not now.
But he just held her eyes and asked, "What do you do between concerts?"
She blinked at the sudden change of topic. "What?"
"Between the two concerts today. We'll have a couple of hours' downtime, right? What do you usually do?"
"Oh." She cleared her throat, trying to clear her head as well. "Um, some people just hang out here; some go out for a bite to eat. My dad's coming today, so I thought I'd see if he wants to go get something after the first concert."
"Gotcha." Castle nodded, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Well, uh, if you want, you and your dad could come with me and Mother and Alexis. We're going to get tea and snacks before Mother has to run off for her evening performance." He paused then, and added uncertainly, "I mean, if you think you'd want to. To join us. I mean..."
"I'll ask him," she offered, timidly, and her chest tightened when she saw Castle's face light up. What on earth was going on? she wondered. Castle had been flirting with her all week, and she couldn't deny that there had been sparks, but she'd assumed it was just the way he was with every woman. But now he seemed to be actually showing an interest in her, and it seemed so far-fetched. He could have any woman he wanted.
These thoughts had swirled through her mind last night, while she was getting ready for bed; but she'd been too worn out from the long day - not to mention flushed and flustered from Castle's kisses - to really focus on them. Now, in the light of day, confronted with the man himself and his obvious pleasure at the thought that she might go out for tea and snacks with him, she found herself wondering all over again. What could Castle possibly see in her?
You inspired me, he had said. Could that be all it was? That he wanted to spend time with her just to wring out every last bit of inspiration for his opera? But he hadn't kissed her like a man who was just looking for story ideas. She shivered a little at the memory.
Castle noticed, and tilted his head curiously at her. He looked about to say something, but now the hall was rapidly filling up, and there was only time for a final exchange of glances before they both moved off in different directions.
Castle felt giddy as he wandered off down the hall, shaking his head at how incoherent he had become with Beckett. The simple act of inviting her out for tea between performances had nearly reduced him to babbling. What had happened to his composure, his legendary suavity?
And what was he thinking, suggesting that she bring her dad along? True, Beckett had already met his mother and daughter, but was he ready to meet her father? Surely they weren't yet at that point in their ... He stopped short. Their what? Relationship? It was far too soon to be using that word, he told himself. Hell, they hadn't even been on anything that really qualified as a date. One kiss - okay, several kisses - and one murder mystery and a week's worth of rehearsals - and one partially-written opera - these things did not add up to a relationship.
But he wanted them to. He closed his eyes briefly and admitted it to himself. They had two concerts to perform today, and one more tomorrow, and then that would be the end of their working partnership, and the very thought caused his guts to twist and the corners of his mouth to pull down. He couldn't bear the idea of not seeing Beckett any more after this weekend. Something would have to happen.
He wanted it all with her: he wanted to kiss her again; he wanted to know what her favorite movies and foods and books were; he wanted to make love to her and lie in bed with her all day; he wanted to write songs and hear her sing them.
Oh God. He was in love with her. He was completely hopeless.
Dazed, he hardly noticed where he was going as he stumbled down the hall to the stairs, and down the stairs, and somehow found his way to the dressing room reserved for the conductor. His briefcase and tuxedo were already there, having been whisked off as soon as he arrived by an efficient symphony assistant. He closed the door and began to change his clothes.
Kate went out onto the stage, where several instrumentalists were already gathered, finding their seats and getting themselves organized. She put her music onto her stand and spent a few minutes checking the chairs, music stands, and chorus risers to make sure everything was properly placed and in order. She conferred with the stage manager about lighting, cameras, and microphone placement, and ensured that there was a clear path for the soloists to get from backstage to their spots at the front. Along the way, she also dealt with several orchestra members who had various questions or problems of their own.
All of this worked like a charm to keep her mind occupied, prevent her from dwelling on the thought of Castle, and keep nerves at bay; but when everything was in order, and showtime was almost upon them, she found herself getting jittery again. She took a few slow, shaky breaths and headed back downstairs.
The chorus members had gathered in two large rooms, and were warming up in clumps and clusters. Most of the orchestra members were on stage by now, or in the locker rooms doing their final prep.
Kate found her locker and changed into her dress and the medium-low heels that she had brought along to go with it. She ate a protein bar that she had brought along, and then stood in front of a mirror for a while, touching up her makeup, distracting herself anew by wondering what to do with her hair. She had put it up into a neat bun, which, along with the low neckline of the dress, emphasized her collarbones and neck. She fussed at it for a few minutes, and finally decided to leave it. It would be fine.
She stowed her cosmetics case back in the locker, took out her violin, and went to close herself into a practice room so she could warm up her voice in private. As sure as she was about her decision, she wasn't yet ready for the comfortable camaraderie of the chorus - even just for warm-ups - nor, especially, for anyone to hear how her voice might waver and tremble in the beginning.
At 12:45, fifteen minutes before concert time, the performance hall was buzzing with voices as the audience took their seats, chattering away. Castle stood by the stage door, peeking out at the crowd while the orchestra members settled themselves and the chorus began to file onstage.
"Good house?" said Beckett's voice from behind him, and he turned with an enthusiastic "Yeah" that died on his lips when he saw her.
Oh God, she had changed her clothes; she was wearing a dress, and it was...
Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she reached up with one finger and pressed it to his chin, closing his mouth.
"Breathe," she advised, smirking, and he couldn't even bring himself to care that she was laughing at him.
"You look incredible," he managed to get out, and she smiled, looking away, her cheeks turning a little pink.
"Thanks. Not so bad yourself," she murmured, and moved away.
He turned to rest his forehead against the cool wall beside the stage door. God, he was a mess around this woman.
While Kate was waiting for the chorus to get themselves settled on the stage, she snagged a copy of the concert program book that someone had left lying around backstage. Curious, she found the insert that had been added at the last minute.
She had to admit that Howard and his team had done a nice job with it. On one side, the page showed a large head-shot of Annabel, along with her dates of birth and death, a short paragraph summarizing her life and career, and a statement of mourning and sympathy from the orchestra administration. The other side bore a smaller picture of Kate, along with her bio - the same one given in the full program booklet, but embellished with a sentence about her brief time in the Juilliard vocal performance program. The paper also listed the solo parts that Kate would sing, and the two that Chloe would sing in their modified versions.
Replacing the insert and putting the program booklet down, she peeked out at the stage and saw that the chorus was assembled, all seated, and the orchestra looked ready also. It was five minutes to showtime. She glanced at the stage manager, who gave her a nod.
Kate took her violin and bow from their case, tucked the violin under her arm, and went out onto the stage.
The audience was still making plenty of noise - several thousand people who thought they were speaking quietly added up to a lot of voices - but a hush, and then a rising murmur, ran through the crowd as Kate appeared. Steeling herself, she ignored it and made her way to her seat at the front.
"All set?" she asked Yukiko, who nodded, wide-eyed. Kate sat down and took a moment to page through her score, making sure that everything was ready. The feeling that all eyes in the room were on her was unsettling, but she reminded herself that she always felt that way when she came onstage - especially for the first concert in a set - and that it was a function, at least in part, of her concertmaster role at the front of the stage. Until the conductor came onstage, she was in charge.
Sneaking a glance out at the room, she couldn't help noticing that it was a bigger audience than usual. Messiah was popular, but there were numerous musical groups in New York that performed it every year, and it tended not to draw the biggest crowds here. Yet, today, it appeared that there were almost no empty seats at all. Kate's stomach churned at the thought that this might be because of her - her and Castle. She felt a sudden surge of nausea, which she firmly swallowed down. This was no time to lose her nerve, she told herself, and forced her teeth to let go of her lower lip.
Abruptly, she heard the audience noise die down sharply as the house lights dimmed.
Kate took a breath, straightened her spine, stood up, and caught the eye of the first oboist. He played an A, and the orchestra began to tune up in turn. The lights continued to go down slowly as the audience fell silent and the sounds of A's and E's filled the hall. Kate lifted her violin into position under her chin and tuned it as well.
When all the players lowered their instruments, indicating that they were ready, Kate cast her eye across the group, looking for anyone to catch her gaze and indicate that they needed something. No one did. She glanced across at the chorus; all were looking calmly at her, poised and ready.
She nodded to the assembled group and sat down, knowing that the stage manager would see this and take it as a signal.
Sure enough, within seconds the house lights were completely off, and Chloe came on, resplendent in a pale yellow gown, followed by Brett and Vincent in their tuxedos, and finally Castle in his. The audience burst into applause as they appeared. The four of them made their way to the front of the stage and stood facing the audience, taking a bow.
Then the soloists took their seats and Castle stepped up onto the podium, flipping his score open, taking a moment to look across the gathered orchestra and chorus. He flashed a warm smile at all of them, which many of them returned.
Kate detected the tiny hints of nervousness around the corners of his eyes, the clench of his jaw, the twitchy movements of his fingers. Right up until the moment when the music starts, she remembered him saying, and just as she was thinking that, he turned his head slightly and caught her eye.
Her lips twitched as they looked at each other and she knew, somehow, that he knew. In that moment they were perfectly in sync, both remembering their conversation yesterday about being nervous; and although neither of them had said anything dumb to the other like Don't worry, you'll be fine, the genuine sentiment was there, flowing through the air between them as their eyes met. Kate smiled the tiniest smile, feeling warmed by the connection.
Castle smiled back, and returned his attention to the whole group. He lifted his arms. The orchestra, as one, lifted their instruments into position. The chorus sat straight and still. The audience was silent, waiting.
Castle's baton moved, and the music began.
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the holiday. Thanks for coming along on this ride with me. Just a few more chapters to go.