June ~ The Pianist: A Musical Christmas Series

By Judy Ann Davis

A sweet Christmas novella to warm your heart!

When concert pianist June Westberry inherits her late grandfather's music shop, she returns to her small hometown in New York to renovate and manage it. But she never expects to clash with the town's ornery old music teacher, Nettie Jones who demands she find a lost, fifty-year-old holiday musical score.

Single parent and contractor, Leo Ciaffonni, enjoys restoring old buildings, and the A# Music Shop with its pretty new owner is no exception. When he's injured, June finds herself caring for Leo and helping his little daughter bake cookies for her class.

As the holidays close in and the shop's renovations continue, the problems June tries hard to solve only seem to become more chaotic. A# Sharp Music Shop is broken into. A harvest recital for her new students requires multifaceted planning. And the perpetrator and the lost musical score have not been found.

Will she be able to find peace and order in her new life this Christmas—and the love she's always dreamed of?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judy Ann Davis
• Release date: Oct 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9780999089644

Judy Ann Davis

Judy Ann Davis began her career in writing as a copy and continuity writer for radio and television in Scranton, PA. She holds a degree in Journalism and Communications from Point Park University in Pittsburgh, PA. Throughout her career, Davis has written for industry and education. Over a dozen of her short stories have appeared in various literary and small magazines, and anthologies, and have received numerous awards. UP ON THE ROOF AND OTHER SHORT STORIES, is a collection of nineteen of her short works. Her first novel, RED FOX WOMAN, published in 2010, is a western, mystery and romance and was a finalist in the International Book Awards and USA Book News Best Book Awards. KEY TO LOVE was her second fictional work, and UNDER STARRY SKIES was her third fictional work, a sequel to RED FOX WOMAN. Her novel, KEY TO LOVE, is a contemporary romantic suspense. Her latest novel, FOUR WHITE ROSE, is romantic suspense with a hint of paranormal and was a finalist in the Book Excellence Awards and Georgia Romance Writers' Maggie Awards. Her only novella,"Sweet Kiss," is part of the Candy Hearts Series. She is a member of Pennwriters, Inc. and Romance Writers of America, and divides her time between Central Pennsylvania and New Smyrna Beach, Florida. Visit her at: www.judyanndavis.com and www.judyanndavis.blogspot.com You can find her on Facebook: Judy Ann Davis and on Twitter: @JudyAnnDavis4

Book preview

Chapter 1

Despite the chilly winds of October blowing outside, June Westberry stood in the center of her room at the Bluestone Inn and felt like she was in the bosom of summer. The sunny yellow walls, papered with tiny roses with mellow-looking green leaves, were a cheerful welcome after a chilly and long, seven-hour drive northward into New York State.

Bluestone Bluff, New York. Her old home town. A place she had left fourteen years ago and a place where she never dreamed she’d return to.

Stepping around her luggage piled beneath a westerly window, she dipped her hand inside the pocket of her coat and felt for the key to the A# Sharp Music Shop. It was cool to the touch and brought poignant memories of her childhood when she used to help her late grandfather open the store on weekend mornings. Besides the key, she also remembered the brown paper bag filled with donuts he always brought along, and one of them had a maple-flavored frosting on it—just for her.

She sighed and mulled over again all she had left behind in Pittsburgh to come home and start a new life and career. It was quite a list.

A good job.

A cozy condo.

Old friends.

A lucrative music career.

Accomplished colleagues.

The Pittsburgh Symphony.

The Pittsburgh Pirates.

Oh, yes and the Steelers.

Three beautiful rivers.

The diverse delicious ethnic foods of The ’Burgh.

And the list went on and on…

Ah, and don’t forget the long-time boyfriend of six years who jilted you, a little voice popped up in the corner of her brain to remind her.

She shook her head to clear her errant thoughts, buttoned her red wool coat, and rewound her cashmere scarf around her neck. She needed to eat, but she decided to venture out before darkness fell and take a quick look at the music shop now that she was the legal owner. After all, if she was rebuilding an entire new life and career at thirty-three years old, she should at least see what she was working with. The shop was three generations old, established in the early 1900s.

She pushed aside any mournful musings she had surrounding her earlier return for the funeral of her grandfather, Thomas Westberry. She had stayed for the service and burial, but wasn’t able to remain long enough to hear the reading of his will. She had a piano concert scheduled in New York City, and she was unable cancel at the last minute. Ironically, it had been her grandfather who had helped her obtain the performance. She was certain he would have been disappointed if she had bowed out and left the concert hall in a lurch. Luckily, her cousin, Adelene Almanza, was more than capable of dealing with the funeral details since she had been working part-time for June’s grandfather for the last few years. It was Adelene who had informed her of her uncle’s wish for June to become the new owner.

June knew her grandfather had high hopes of her returning one day. He and her grandmother had raised her since she was in fourth grade when her parents were killed in a highway accident one snowy night. Her grandmother had passed away ten years ago, just as she’d finished college. Her grandfather had soldiered on, keeping the shop open for the students, the town, and for himself and Emory Gibson—two old men who continued to love music beyond everything else in life.

Although the walk to the music shop was only four blocks, the brisk wind, laced with droplets of rain, was biting. June pulled her collar up and her knitted hat down over her honey-colored hair as she passed quaint downtown shops along the way. Smoke curled from brick chimneys, and colorful New England-styled doors were locked tight against the cold.

As she approached the corner shop with its blue panel door, she was surprised to find a light shining from the front display windows, casting shallow golden rays onto the stone sidewalk. She twisted the brass handle and cautiously entered. From the far back corner of the room, she heard the pitch perfect sound of brass instruments playing a jazz and Latin score of Jenny’s Song.

Curious, she tiptoed closer and peered around a corner of boxes piled high to form a makeshift wall. Four high school boys were gathered in a semi-circle with each one playing a saxophone, a trombone, a trumpet, and drums. With his back to her and in front of an upright piano, elderly Emory Gibson sat with his bony fingers flying over the keys. He had worked for her grandfather for too many years to count, tending the shop and giving music lessons. As soon as the young musicians noticed her, the song’s volume drifted down and trickled away, instrument by instrument, until only Emory was performing. He stopped suddenly, hands resting on the keys as he peered at his students with a puzzled look. But they were staring quizzically at her.

He swiveled around. Spying her, his face lit up with joy.

Little Junie Westberry! He pushed his stooped frame up from the piano bench.

She met him half-way, and he pulled her in for a long hug. I’m so sorry about the death of your grandfather. His voice was thick and mournful. He backed away and shook his head. Rumor has it you might not sell the shop. I’m praying the rumor is true.

Rumors travel fast. June smiled. What have we here?

This is a group of talented young men I’ve been helping for the last few months. They are some of my brass students who wanted to start their own band, but they had no place to practice where it’s warm. Except here. We try to keep the sound down to keep the neighborhood contented. The young man who’s their keyboard player, Frank Miller, had a dentist appointment, so I was filling in. We’re also missing a bass guitar player who has a cold. He turned to the young men. Let’s call it a night. But before you leave, please say hello to Miss June Westberry, who is the new owner of A# Sharp.

While the students packed up their instruments, Emory ushered her to the front of the shop where two battered, stuffed chairs, divided by a small table, sat like chubby tabby cats guarding the shop. A wooden front counter, made of New England maple, was polished smooth from decades of wear. For as long as June could remember, the chairs had been in the exact same spot for customers to use while waiting for their children to finish a lesson or for someone who was lingering while a quick repair was performed on an instrument.

Here. Here. Emory gestured. Sit. Sit. Do you want a cup of coffee or tea? Or maybe hot chocolate? He gestured to the new brewing machine sitting on the far end of counter beside a clear glass apothecary jar as old as the store itself. It was filled with hard candies. Lemon drops still seemed to be the old standby and current preference.

He reached under the counter and pulled out a box of orange spice tea K-cups. Our students bought Thomas and me this contraption as a Christmas present two years ago. They knew we liked a cup of tea when we taught lessons beyond the dinner hour, especially in the winter. ’Course they had to teach us how to operate it, even though we’d progressed from your grandfather’s ancient hot plate to a microwave. Can you believe it? We even have fancy cream that doesn’t need refrigerated.

Okay. That sounds delightful, June conceded, still smiling. She watched the elderly man shuffle to a new spot under the counter and remove two mugs. I talked with Adelene while I was packing my condo in Pittsburgh.

Her eyes traveled around the perimeter of the huge room. Instruments were displayed in no type of logical order. In fact, they looked like they had wrestled with each other and then flopped down to take a rest. The room was dingy gray and in need of a fresh coat of paint. Adelene said she’d continue to help out with the shop during the day. I think it was a relief for her to know she still had a job that would allow her to teach Spanish to high school students and teach English as second language in the evening. Did you talk to her?

Emory nodded and gave her a tentative, discomfited glance. She said she was trying to locate a carpenter for you. He paused. I’m so pleased you decided to take over the business, but I hear you’re thinking about some new-fangled renovations.

It was obvious he had reservations about making changes. Emory had worked with her grandfather for over thirty years. An accomplished music instructor, he resisted new ideas. But then,