All the Right Strings

By Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk

Christine Anthony is a cellist who wants nothing more than to play with a major symphony orchestra. Until then, she works in a clothing boutique and spends her weekends playing with a string quartet at a museum.
When a stylish, rich woman named Car Weldon asks Chris to deliver a purchase to her, Chris finds the world she knows thrown into a spin. Suddenly she's doing things that would have scandalized her a few weeks previous. When Car takes her to St. Lucia on vacation, she meets new friends and a booking agent who offers her a job that changes her life. 
And when she draws the attention of a well-known gossip columnist and a handsome TV actor, Chris suddenly has a fame she isn't ready for. With the right choices, her cello could take her more places than she ever imagined ... but what must she leave behind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Sep 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781611528145

Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk

Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk had a successful music career as a pianist and conductor and performed and traveled around the world several times. She has lived in the Northeast, the Pacific Northwest, and the South Central US. Although she lived in Texas for ten years, she had to go to Brazil to experience a cattle drive. When MS curtailed traveling and performing, she turned to her writing. She has written mysteries, romances, and erotica. She now lives on thirty acres of wooded land in South Central Oklahoma with her partner, their son, two labs, and a puggle.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I was working in a high-price clothing boutique and she was one of our regular customers. She was an elegant woman, barely approaching middle age. She was pretty, but the way she held herself and the way she moved told everyone that she knew who she was and was proud of it. Her make-up was always perfect and her longish, dark shag always looked like she’d just come from a salon, not like my dark brown hair that was a little longer and was always hanging in my face. Her purple eyes were almost mesmerizing. You could also tell she had money.

The summer clothing had just arrived and we were doing good business. She had me bring clothing into the dressing room and asked my opinion as she tried each on.

Most fit her perfectly. She was about two inches shorter than I was and had a beautiful figure.

I think you need a smaller size in that one, I said as she emerged from the dressing cubical in a yellow summer dress. I’ll go get it.

I walked into the showroom and got a smaller size. I also picked out another dress I thought would look good on her. I walked back to the dressing rooms and knocked on the cubicle she was using.

Here’s the smaller size and another you might like, I said as she opened the door. She was in her underwear. I had to look into her eyes or at the dresses I was handing her so it wouldn’t seem like I was staring at her body. I handed the two to her.

You can put these two back, she told me as she handed me the dress that was too large and another dress that neither of us had liked when she’d tried it on.

Okay. I smiled. I’ll be back in a minute.

I took a deep breath as she closed the door. I’d seen just enough of her to stop my heart. She had a beautiful figure, not too small, not too big. She wasn’t muscular but was very trim. Her bra and panties looked like silk and matched perfectly. I liked every aspect of what I’d seen.

Now, I’m not usually the type of person to ogle the customers while they’re changing, I mean, I’m not a voyeur or anything like that, but there she was, and there I was, and she’d opened the door. I guess if she wasn’t concerned about it, I shouldn’t be either. I do like looking at appealing women, the fewer clothes the better, but not in here; not where I work. I do have to say, though, that I did enjoy what I saw.

I took the two dresses out and placed them back on the racks. When I went back, she was standing in front of the mirror looking at herself in the new dress I’d just brought her.

Yes, she said, nodding. Yes. I like it. You have very good taste.

I smiled a thank you and she went back into the dressing cubical.

Finally, I heard, Yes, this one fits much better. She came out of the cubicle.

Yes. I almost couldn’t breathe. That’s beautiful on you.

Yes, it is, isn’t it? she said as she modeled in front of the mirror.

Your husband will love it, I said as I straightened the shoulder strap for her.

I don’t have a husband, she threw back over her shoulder, but I hope someone will love it.

Well, I think it’s beautiful on you. I let a few seconds lapse. Is there anything else you want to try?

She gave one last turn in the mirror. No, she said. I think those four will do for now.

All right. I smiled. I’ll get them wrapped for you.

She handed me the three that were hanging there and closed the door behind her.

I went to the cashier’s desk and unfolded four boxes, placing tissue paper in each, as was the store’s policy. I folded each dress, as we’d been trained to do, set it into the tissue paper and covered it with more tissue that had our logo written all over it. I was closing the third box when she walked out of the dressing room with the fourth dress. It didn’t take but a minute to get that one boxed, too.

Is there anything else you want today? I asked as I stacked the four boxes and took the platinum Amex card she held out.

No, I think that’s all for today. I’ll have my driver come in and get those, she said as she signed the charge slip.

Oh, I can bring these out for you, I said. I was just going to lunch anyway.

Have I prevented you from going out? she asked.

No, no, I assured her. There’s no scheduled time. We take lunch when we’re free.

I turned, grabbed my jacket from under the counter, and motioned to my coworker that I was leaving, and then I picked up the four boxes and followed her out to the street, where a dark gray Mercedes was waiting.

Thank you so much for your help, she said as I handed the boxes to her driver. Maybe the next time, I can take you to lunch, too. She got into the back seat of the car.

You don’t have to do that, I protested.

Nonsense. Everyone has to eat lunch. It’ll be fun. The driver closed her door and ran around the car. I gave a small wave as they pulled away.

* * * *

I’ve been working at Platinum Boutique for almost eight years. It wasn’t the job I wanted nor the one I was educated to do, but it paid the rent and made it possible to practice the thing I love most. You see, I’m a cellist. I’ve played since I was in the fourth grade and I’d gone to college to study it as well. But serious orchestral jobs were few and far between. You had to wait for someone to retire or die to have a space become available. Even then, you’d have to fight dozens of others for the job.

I had landed a position with a very good string quartet. We had a standing gig most weekends at one of the major museums down town and we were always getting rave reviews. Occasionally we’d get a booking to perform a concert in another city. It was a good job, but unless the out-of-town bookings increased, it would never pay the rent. That’s why I worked at Platinum Boutique.

* * * *

She came in about once a week to look around and I was always the one she wanted to wait on her. She’d try things on and ask my opinion, or I’d suggest something or tell her where she might find what she wanted. It seemed that she was my regular customer. My co-workers were always teasing me about it because she spent more than any other customer did. It was too bad that we worked for a standard wage because if we had worked on commission, I’d probably be rich right now.

I didn’t see her again until the next week. She came in on Tuesday looking for a pair of high-heeled, black sandals, and a silk jacket. We had a lot of both of those, but she wanted the jacket in a special color to match a dress she’d bought a few weeks ago. I thought the company who handled the label of her dress might have such a jacket.

I think we may be able to order one for you, I told her. I looked at my watch. It was five-thirty. I can call tomorrow morning and see.

I’d really appreciate that, she said. Then she handed me her business card. You can call me anytime.

She paid for her sandals with the platinum Amex card.

The business card said Weldon Brokerage House, C D Weldon, CEO. There were phone and fax numbers and an address in a very ritzy neighborhood, just up-state. I’d never been there but I’d been told that there were massive estates there on acres and acres of land and mansions hidden away behind trees and fences that had a view of the river and the city.

CEO? Platinum Amex? Of course. That meant money.

I called her early on the next afternoon and told her they had the jacket she wanted and would deliver it as soon as possible. She was ecstatic.

When the delivery arrived from that company, the jacket was with the shipment, so I called her again.

I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I just wanted to see how someone like her lived.

I can bring it out to you tonight, if you want, I offered.

Would you? I’d be so grateful. She sounded excited. It would save me having to go into the city again this week.

So, there I was. I’d never been to this area before but I knew it was where the very, very wealthy lived. My friends always laughed and said that when they won the lottery, they’d get a house there. Somehow, I don’t think they’d ever win a lottery that big.

When I had finally found the entrance to her estate, I was shocked. There were two tall brick towers at the entrance with the name Weldon spelled out on a metal beam across the top. Tall wrought iron fences came out of each tower and continued around the property, or as far around the property as I could see. There was a gate and a guard house. I could see at least two surveillance cameras pointed at where I was stopped. There were probably more. A woman with an older alto voice answered when I pressed the call button.

Christine Anthony with a delivery for Ms. Weldon, I announced.

The gate slowly slid to the side and I pulled into the driveway of a magnificent estate. The driveway must have been a half-mile long and the grounds were superbly manicured. I wanted to come back during the day so I could see all of it. It must have been beautiful, but the light was beginning to fade so I couldn’t see a lot.

I pulled up in front of a wonderful stone house that sat atop a small hill. It almost looked like a castle. It was big, but not huge. It looked like most of it was only two stories tall, but each floor looked taller than most houses. It seemed long and wide. It still didn’t look like the home of a large family, and unless there was a playground in back, there weren’t children here, either.

I got out of my car with the garment bag in my hand, walked up the front stairs, and rang the bell beside the door. It took a moment for the bell to be answered, but when it was, I was facing an older woman.

I have a delivery for Ms. Weldon, I told her.

She’s on the upstairs terrace. Just go up the stairs and through the French doors to the right.

I smiled. It sounded like the voice that had answered at the gate.

I went up the long circular staircase. Every room I could see was magnificent. The furniture looked old and heavy. Yes, this woman had money; lots and lots by the looks of it.

I walked down the long hallway and, as I opened the doors and walked out onto the terrace, she looked up from where she was lounging in the twilight. A glow of yellow lights warmed the area.

The ‘terrace,’ as the housekeeper had called it, was more of an outdoor living room. There were a couple of chairs and a couch and a dining table with chairs that sat four. It looked like they were made of material that would withstand heat, rain, and maybe even snow. There was a long cabinet against the house that must have kept utensils or items for whatever was needed here. It also could be used for a serving table. Perhaps it was a bar or something like that.

That was quick, she said to me. How did you get it to the shop so quickly?

I caught them just in time to add this jacket to today’s delivery, I told her.

That’s wonderful. You’re very efficient. I like that. Then she looked around. I can’t tell the color in this light, she said as she rose from her chair. Let’s take it inside and see if it matches. She had on two-inch heels so we were the same height.

Wow, was all I thought as we entered her bedroom. It was almost as large as my whole apartment. A king-sized bed was on a six-inch platform against the far wall with a bench or counter across the foot. A white cabinet went all around the room on every wall, stopping only at the four doors. The top of the cabinet was uninterrupted, although there were doors or drawers every two or three feet. It was about thirty inches high and twenty-four inches deep. There was spectacular pottery artwork scattered across the top. Two walls were covered with dramatic prints in bright colors.

The terrace wrapped around the side of the house along the glass wall on the side of the bedroom. From the room, one could see out onto the terrace, and, I imagined, out to a magnificent vista. The darkness was almost total but you could see the city lights in the distance.

I heard chuckling behind me. It looks gorgeous, doesn’t it? You should see it during the day.

I was a little embarrassed to have been caught gawking.

She walked to a door at the back of the room, opened it, and flipped the light on.

It was the most organized dressing room I’d ever seen. Everything was hung according to color and little boxed shelves held carefully folded sweaters and purses of every color. There were shelves and shelves of shoes of all colors and heel height. A full-length closet was filled with long gowns behind a glass door.

She held her hand out and I unzipped the garment bag and passed her the jacket. Against some of the clothes hung there, it matched almost perfectly.

Just dark enough to show this off, she commented. She held the jacket next to the one dress. Did you charge it to my credit card?

No! I was aghast. I’d never just charge anything to someone else’s credit card without them telling me to.

She smiled. Then, charge it tomorrow. You should have my Amex on file.

All right. I will.

She turned to me.

What are you doing tomorrow night? she asked.

I was surprised. I have plans to go a movie with a friend.

A special friend? She smiled at me.

I shook my head. No. Just a buddy.

Cancel it and come back here. Seven-thirty. I’ll tell Judith to have dinner ready then. She hung the jacket up and I followed her back into the bedroom.

Judith?

My cook. You’ll love her food. She’s the best cook I’ve ever had here. Is there anything that you especially like to eat?

I shook my head as we walked back onto the terrace.

I’ll let her surprise you.

I’ll have to call you tomorrow after I talk to my friend, I said.

Nonsense, she said. I’ll expect you at seven-thirty.

She leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my lips. Then she turned away and I walked back out through the French doors and back to my car.

Chapter 2

And so, the next evening, I was again driving up the long driveway. I’d called Marie the night before as soon as I got home.

Got a hot date? Marie asked, when I told her I couldn’t go to the movies with her.

I have no idea. I helped a woman at the store yesterday and delivered a purchase to her tonight. She invited me to dinner tomorrow.

Is she hot? Marie asked.

Warm, but she’s real nice. I suppose she could be hot under the right circumstances. I didn’t dare bring up the money thing.

Then go for it, Marie said. And I’ll expect a full report the day after.

* * * *

The procedures were the same as the night before: I announced myself, the gate slid back, and I drove up the driveway. It was earlier in the evening and still light out. I got to see more of the property. The grounds were breathtaking. They looked better kept than many of the golf courses I’d seen. In some places, trees were neatly placed. It didn’t look like they’d just grown there randomly and there were just enough trees to form a nice windbreak.

The same woman opened the door when I rang the bell.

She’s on the terrace, she said with a smile. You know where it is.

I jogged up the stairs.

Hi! she greeted me as I opened the door and walked out. She was dressed in a beautiful yellow silk blouse and very tight black trousers. Her gold jewelry highlighted everything she had on.

I had on not-so-tight tan slacks and a navy blue polo shirt.

Just in time, she commented. Punctual, as well as efficient. I’ve never seen you in slacks before. I like it. You have a good figure.

I looked down as I felt myself start to blush.

A drink? she asked as she walked to the cabinet.

Do you have scotch? I asked.

A scotch drinker? Better and better. So am I. She took out two glasses, added ice, and poured liberally into both of them. The bottle she poured from was a very expensive bottle of single malt scotch. The label bragged that it had been aged at least twenty-one years. I had tasted that brand once before but when I priced a bottle, found it was way beyond my means. That bottle had cost seventy-five dollars, and that was for just the eighteen-year variety. The twenty-one year stuff must cost twice that.

I have a confession to make, I admitted to her. "I don’t know how to address you. You’re Ms. Weldon at the store and your cards say