Missing Notes, Hidden Talents, and Other Stories

By Donald F. Averill and TBD

Love and mystery have a way of intertwining in unexpected ways in life. In Donald Averill’s short story collection, he traces a journey through the lives of vibrant characters driven by love who suddenly find themselves in the midst of unusual situations.

In “Missing Notes,” a music department graduate student finds an in

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Mar 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781951886516

Donald F. Averill

Donald F. Averill, Ph.D, retired from teaching chemistry at Eastern New Mexico University in 2002. Other novels by the author include The Lighthouse Library, The Lighthouse Fire, The Kuiper Belt Deception, The Antarctic Deception, and the award winning An Iceberg's Gift. He lives in a fixer-upper in Troutdale, Oregon.

Book preview

Missing Notes

Chapter 1

New Environment

Crystal was in Carnegie Hall randomly hitting the white keys on a grand piano. Only five, she smiled proudly at the audience, and pressed down on some more keys. The piano and sousaphone duet was supposed to represent a mouse and an elephant. Her mother was playing the same note, over and over on the gleaming brass sousaphone.

Crystal suddenly woke and realized the sousaphone sounds were from her alarm clock. Her left ear was buried in a fluffy pillow, and a soft, light-blue sheet covered her right ear. Eyes closed, she reached toward the noise, and pressed buttons until she found the off switch, silencing the irritating sounds hammering at her eardrums. She slowly opened her eyes and spent a few moments adjusting to her first morning in the basement apartment. Crystal was not an early riser, but today was different. She had a morning appointment.

Last night, Sunday at 10:00 p.m., she had set the digital alarm clock for 6:00 a.m. and placed it beside her keys and some pocket change on the little white nightstand. She had touched the base of the reading light to turn it off and had let her head sink into the pillow. The clock preparation and surroundings reminded her of staying in a modestly priced motel except this place was much nicer, at least a step above a motel room. She wasn’t worried in the least about bed bugs. Everything was clean and the sheets smelled so good! Crystal had been instructed to come a week before classes began to get acquainted with the campus at Finchdale College, Finchdale, New Hampshire, and meet some of her professors and fellow graduate students.

It was her first semester as a graduate student in the Music Department and she couldn’t be late for her initial meeting. Scheduled to meet Dr. Zhukov at 8:00 a.m., Crystal was to find out what her Fall Semester duties were going to be. Her assistantship would be enough to support her for the academic year if she adhered to a strict budget. She wouldn’t be getting rich as a teaching assistant, but grad students weren’t supposed to make big bucks. They were there to prepare for more grandiose things; Crystal understood what she was doing.

She hadn’t eaten much on Sunday and didn’t want her stomach to be growling during her meeting with Professor Zhukov. Crystal slipped into a soft, yellow bathrobe and had breakfast. The Corn Flakes were crunchy and needed some sugar, something she didn’t have yet. She splashed some milk on the flakes, quickly ate the cereal before it could get soggy, and sipped a small glass of orange juice. Crystal wondered why she was getting nervous.

The answer was simple; it was fear of the unknown that unsettled her. A hot shower would help remove some of the tension from both mind and body. She left her dirty dishes on the table and took a quick shower. Dressed in a black skirt, white blouse, and black high heels, she started toward the campus. She didn’t have far to go, only three blocks, so she told herself to calm down and walk slowly. She tried to absorb some of the essence of the small college town on that chilly morning, wishing she had worn a sweater; her hands were getting cold and she was only halfway to the Music Building.

Two days ago, as she rode the bus, Crystal had seen a sign posted outside of Finchdale stating the population was 3,502, but it was twice that with the college students present. The town owed its existence to the college. Crystal was renting a basement apartment for $135 a month from the Brennan family of four. Mike Brennan, was about thirty years old, taught high school math, and was the assistant football coach. Sherry, his wife, had a small Internet business, selling vitamin supplements. Brennans had a three-year-old daughter, Lexis, and a five-month-old boy, Lee.

There were about a dozen concrete steps leading to the imposing front entrance of Harwick Hall, the Music Building. Crystal had been attracted to the Music Department at the college because of its solid reputation. Over the years, a large number of the graduates had been accepted into more prestigious music programs. Crystal had her sights set on The Brighton Conservatory of Music in Boston after completing her master’s degree. The elite Brighton was rated as one of the top three schools in North America.

The door to Harwick Hall was very heavy. Crystal had to lean into it and push to get it open. She entered the building and saw OFFICE written in gold letters on the translucent glass in the door to the right across the white marble floor. The lobby seemed more likely to belong to an office building in Washington, DC, than a small college music building. Several award plaques were mounted on the walls, which added to the lobby’s character. She entered the office and saw a mature, gray-haired lady at a desk on the left. The lady looked away from her monitor at Crystal.

May I help you?

Yes. I’m Crystal Salsman. I have an appointment with Professor Zhukov.

Oh, yes. I remember your name from our departmental meeting the other day. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like it here. We’ll have eight graduate students this year. You are the second of the four new students to report in. I’m Mrs. Farnsworth, the department secretary. You can call me Betty.

Crystal glanced at the nameplate on the lady’s desk. It said Mrs. B. Farnsworth.

It’s nice to meet you, Betty. Where will I find Dr. Zhukov? I’m supposed to meet with him promptly at 8:00 a.m.

The secretary looked up at the large wall clock and said, You’re two minutes late dear, but don’t worry, Professor Zhukov looks kind of mean, but he is really a nice man. He’s in room 131; down the hall on the left. She gave Crystal a motherly smile.

Thank you. Crystal spoke cheerfully and smiled. She thought she’d better be on the good side of the woman who was probably in charge of the department, second to the chairman, Dr. Johansson.

Crystal’s heels echoed in the polished, well-lit hallway. She watched the room numbers for 131 to appear. She spied the door plaque: there it is, Dr. Zhukov. She knocked three times and heard a deep baritone voice. Come in.

Crystal opened the door and stuck her head in the room. She saw a large man over six feet tall in a gray-blue suit standing at a desk reading from a piece of paper. It was Dr. Zhukov. She had seen his picture in the graduate catalog.

Yes? he asked as he looked up over his reading glasses.

I’m Crystal Salsman, your new graduate student.

Come in, come in. Take a seat. You’re five minutes late, he said quietly, but with a disapproving look on his face. You’re fired!

Crystal blinked her eyes, frowned, and nearly stumbled into the nearest chair.

Just kidding! the professor grinned.

Boy, you had me there for a second. My first symphony flashed before my eyes.

That was a good one, Crystal. You have a good sense of humor. I always imagine what the new students look like from reading their applications. You are just about what I expected, maybe a little taller. Zhukov had evaluated Crystal’s appearance. She wasn’t beautiful, but nice looking and very well groomed. Your references described you fairly accurately. I’ll put you right to work. We have to convert a storage room into an office for graduate students, but we have to clean out and remove some old file cabinets. That will be your project for this afternoon. However, it will be a dirty job. The room is dusty, so I want you to come back at 1:00 p.m. dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, or at least some grubby clothes. Did Betty give you a lunch voucher?

No sir. What is that?

It’s a little card for a free lunch at the Burger and Tunes Café over on Washington and Clarinet. It’s the way they try to get your business for the upcoming academic year, he smiled.

Oh, I see. You’d think it would be on Washington and Cherry, Crystal smiled.

The professor thought for a moment and said, Very clever. You have a quick mind. We’re going to have a fun time this year, he smiled. Well, pick up a voucher from Betty, and I’ll see you back here at one o’clock. Okay?

Okay. Thank you, Professor. Bye.

Bye Crystal. See you at one.

Crystal left Zhukov’s office, was careful to not slam the door and returned to the departmental office. With voucher in hand, she walked down Washington Street to Clarinet Avenue. It was about three blocks away from where she had rented the basement apartment. She looked at her watch. It was only nine o’clock. Crystal stopped at a clothing shop and spent about half an hour looking around before continuing to the Burger and Tunes Café. She entered the sandwich shop and took a seat in a large booth near the door. A young boy, about fourteen or fifteen years old, wearing a red T-shirt and a white apron over his jeans, approached.

May I help you? he asked.

Yes please. I’d like a cup of coffee, black.

Anything else?

No thank you.

Crystal looked around the sandwich shop. The walls were decorated with various sandwiches adorned with little flags. The little designs resembled eighth notes.

The boy reappeared with a mug of coffee and a small oatmeal-raisin muffin.

The muffin is on the house until classes start next week. Creamer, sugar and artificial sweetener are over there. He pointed with his order book to a small oblong tray on a semicircular table against the wall.

Thank you, Crystal replied with a smile.

You’re welcome. Thank you for coming to the B & T Café. The music begins at eleven o’clock.

Crystal watched the young man wave to someone outside, just passing by, straighten out some menus by the cash register, and disappear through an arched doorway behind the counter. As Crystal sipped her steaming hot coffee and took the first bite from the muffin, she reflected on her impressions of Professor Zhukov. He was at least five inches taller than she was and had a humorous side to him. Crystal’s heels made her at least five-ten so Zhukov must be about six-three. His eyebrows were bushy and looked like they were trying to escape from behind his plastic-framed reading glasses. She imagined his eyebrows to be two hurdlers, racing over high hurdles. The right hurdler was slightly ahead of the left one.

Zhukov’s facial features seemed almost chiseled from stone, and his high cheek bones reminded Crystal of a Native American chief she had seen in a western movie. His hands, although large, were strangely delicate, his fingers long and slender. Crystal concluded he was a pianist. She thought he would look very regal sitting at a piano playing classical music. She smiled. Zhukov was probably a jazz pianist.

She wondered what his wife looked like and if they had any children. Crystal smiled as she imagined his kids out smoking, drinking, and taking drugs, just the opposite of their parents. No, the children were probably very smart and had earned scholarships to top-rated universities.

She took the second and final bite of the miniature muffin. The owners hadn’t splurged on the mini muffins, but it was a nice touch. As she familiarized herself with the café, several young people sat down in the adjoining booth. They looked like high school kids, but she could hear them talking about starting their first semester in college next week. Crystal sighed, she was happy to be finished with her undergraduate work but suddenly realized she was a kind of freshman herself, starting her first year of graduate school.

Chapter 2

Tory

Pretty good coffee, Crystal thought as she slid out of the booth, and if the dinky muffin was an example of the real thing, she would have to buy a regular one someday soon. She started to walk out of the café and a voice from behind her said, Miss, you forgot to pay for the coffee.

Crystal turned toward the voice and looked at the young waiter. Oh, I’m so sorry. How much do I owe you?

Seventy-five cents please.

I’m really sorry about that. I’m adjusting to everything today; I’m a new student. Here’s a dollar, keep the change, Crystal smiled. Feeling rather foolish, she hoped the tip would make up for her negligence.

Thank you.

You’re welcome. I’ll be back again. I hope you don’t have to remind me about paying next time, she laughed nervously.

I probably won’t. I’m still in high school and only work on Saturday during the school year. I’ll warn my mother about you though, he grinned.

Crystal turned back toward the door and pulled on the handle. The door swung open and she stepped out onto the sidewalk smack into another pedestrian. Whoever she had walked into was very large and solid, nearly immoveable.

Oh! Excuse me. I didn’t look where I was going, Crystal apologized as she struggled to maintain her balance. She had slammed into a young man. He was crouching to retrieve the book he had dropped.

It was my fault. I had my head in my book and wasn’t watching where I was going. I shouldn’t be walking and reading at the same time, he explained and smiled.

The young man adjusted the cover of his book and stood up in front of Crystal. He was tall, at least as tall as Dr. Zhukov. She noticed the title of the book, Computer Algorithms for Signal Processing.

So, you work with computers? she asked.

Yeah. I’m a new grad student. This is a text for one of my classes, he said shyly.

I’m a new grad student, too; in music. She extended her hand and said, I’m Crystal.

Tory’s enormous hand engulfed Crystal’s, but he held her hand gently.

Glad to meet you, Crystal. I’m Tory. Say, would you like to have lunch with me here at noon? I don’t know anybody yet. I arrived on campus late last night.

Crystal was going to go back to her apartment, change clothes, finish unpacking, and wait until noon to get her free lunch, so she said, Sure. I’ll see you here at twelve o’clock, and it won’t cost you a penny. I have a voucher for a free meal.

Tory smiled and said, That sounds great, a cheap date! Ah, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. He gave a nervous laugh.

Don’t worry. I wasn’t offended. I’ll see you at noon. I’ll be wearing different clothes, something I won’t ruin if I get dirty, not that I’m a sloppy eater, she laughed. This afternoon I’ll be working in a dusty storage room. Bye Tory.

Bye Crystal. See you later.

High heels and walking were not doing Crystal’s feet any favors, so she headed to her apartment. It was 10:37. She changed to an old red sweatshirt, slipped into jeans, holes at the knees, and some flats. She sat down and started a grocery list, enough food to keep her going for a week. Crystal was surprised by a knock at the door. She looked up and saw Sherry Brennan with her two kids. Sherry and Crystal talked for about fifteen minutes before the kids got anxious to go on their morning walk. Sherry excused herself and Crystal went back to her list. She decided to finish unpacking later.

After completing the grocery list, Crystal combed her hair, brushed her teeth and started toward the café. As she strolled along, she thought about her chance meeting with Tory. Crystal wondered if she would have met Tory if she hadn’t forgotten to pay for the coffee. She would have left the café sooner and wouldn’t have bumped into him. He seemed to be a nice guy. He wasn’t Hollywood handsome, but nice looking. She wondered if he had broken his nose playing football; it wasn’t quite straight, a little bent to the right. Crystal noticed his dark blue eyes and his height, over six feet. He must be pretty smart. She didn’t have a clue what the title of that book meant, unless it involved the analysis of sound waves. Crystal had something to ask him about.

When Crystal was about half a block from the café, she could see Tory looking in the window of the shop. She quickened her pace, watching Tory turn and lean against the red brick wall reading from a book. She was almost breathless, so she slowed down and took some deep breaths before she reached out, poked the book, and said, Hi Tory!

Tory glanced up from the book, looking over the top of his glasses. He looked a little puzzled at first but then dropped his hand holding the book and looked through his glasses.

Oh! Hi Crystal. You look so different. I barely recognized you.

Is that good or bad? Crystal inquired.

Well, I mean you look ordinary. I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant you look like a regular student now; not all dressed up.

I’m just joking with you, Tory. I know what you mean, Crystal laughed.

I like your laugh. I was afraid when you laughed you might sound like a hyena or a donkey. I dated a girl once that laughed like a donkey. We only had one date. I was embarrassed to be with her in public. You know what I mean? Let’s find a seat.

Tory opened the door for Crystal, and they entered the café. Crystal sat down at a small window table. The café was already crowded, the table was dirty, and the two waitresses were busy. As Tory joined Crystal, a waitress arrived and said, Our special today is a chili burger and fries. Would you like the special? Before either of them could answer, the waitress wiped the table and said, Sorry about that, we are really busy today.

Crystal thought about the special. She was going to be working all afternoon cleaning a room, probably moving furniture, including file cabinets. The extra calories would probably be all right this time and gas wouldn’t be a problem as long as she worked by herself. She laughed to herself hoping not to let one slip out if she wasn’t alone.

Okay, I’ll have the special and iced tea please.

The waitress looked at Tory questioningly.

Ah, the vegetarian salad and black coffee for me please.

She jotted down the order and smiled. Thank you. I’ll be right back with your drinks.

Crystal looked at Tory with a bit of a frown.

Tory diagnosed Crystal’s slight facial contorsion. I’m on a diet. I’ve lost fifty-one pounds in the past two months, but I need to lose thirty more. I was a lineman on the football team at Idaho. I weighed 294 and now that extra weight serves no purpose.

Good for you, Tory. I was heavy in high school and lost the extra baggage when I was in the marching band at Nebraska. Say, how tall are you?

Six-four in bare feet, about six-six in heels, he laughed.

I’m glad you aren’t serious, you’d have a hard time finding a date, Crystal grinned.

The waitress returned with the iced tea and coffee.

Tory took a sip of coffee and placed the cup back on the saucer. Wow! That is really hot! he exclaimed. Crystal took a sip of tea. You fooled me, Crystal. I thought you were going to say, Wow! That is really cold!"

Why did you think that? she asked grinning.

It was that mischievous look in your eyes, he said smiling.

Crystal had taken another sip of tea. She started laughing and coughing at the same time. She picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth.

You’re pretty sharp, Tory. I was going to say that, but I decided not to. I didn’t want you to think I was a smart ass. It looks like we think along the same lines.

The waitress arrived with the specials, and Crystal asked for some ketchup.

I don’t know the rest of your name, Tory. What are your middle and last names?

Actually, Tory is my middle name. My first name is Ernest and my last is Clayton, he answered as Crystal inverted the bottle of ketchup and shook it. He was going to warn her but decided to keep his mouth shut. A little dribble of ketchup came out of the bottle, so she shook it again, and a little bit more came out. She put the bottle down on the table and looked at Tory.

You thought I was going to take a bath in ketchup, didn’t you?

Yeah. I almost warned you, but you seemed to know what you were doing, so I didn’t say anything.

So, your initials are ETC, Crystal smiled.

Don’t say it. I’ve heard all the jokes. But I don’t like Ernie, so I use Tory.

Well, I like Tory.

Thank you. So, is your middle name Lynn? he asked.

Crystal gave him a puzzled look.

You know, crystalline.

"Oh!