“Numbers don’t lie.”
I bit my lip. Of course an accountant would say that. But maybe, if you squinted, numbers could mislead.
The accountant’s eyes went all squinty, as if he could hear my thoughts. “This is serious.”
“It can’t be that bad. I’ll just get a few temp jobs during the year.” Giving up travel time would be a sacrifice, of course, but I could go on short adventures between shifts and on days off.
“That’s your personal income, not shop income.” Nathan tapped the folder on the desk between us with a pudgy finger. “I have it all in detail right here. If you don’t do something, and fast, you’re going to have to close the shop at the end of the summer. For good.”
“I know sales have been a little slow this year, but it’ll pick up.” Even if there were only a couple of weeks left of the concert season, it had to. Karma owed me, darn it.
“You pay me for my advice, Octavia.”
Well, that could certainly change, especially if he was only willing to look at the numbers his way.
Nathan went on as if he had no idea what was going on in my head. Which, to be fair, he probably didn’t. He didn’t know me well enough to read my mind. “Trust that I know what I’m talking about. You need more money coming in and less going out. The obvious way to do that is to make a big push right now, then let a couple of employees go for next year.”
“What?” My seasonal violin shop only had four employees.
“It looks like the money you do have coming in this year is mostly from repairs, so I’d suggest starting with the front end staff.” Strength wasn’t a word I’d normally use to describe the man across from me, but his gaze had the strength of a conductor who was able to lead Mahler’s third symphony several times in the same day.
“I can’t fire my staff. Who would run the shop?”
“You’d do it yourself. You can’t have that many people coming through here with these sales numbers.”
The problem wasn’t with the number of people coming into the shop. We got a fair amount of foot traffic, even if it was less than usual lately. An entire symphony’s worth of musicians came to Aerie Pines for their summer season, and we were smack in between two summer music camps—one for high schoolers, and one for college students.
No, the problem wasn’t a lack of people. It was those dangerous, cancer-causing, shiny bits of glass and metal everyone carried with them. So-called customers would come here to decide what they liked, then pull out their phones and order the exact same thing from a place that didn’t have the same overhead costs my little shop had.
And they didn’t even have the courtesy to wait until they were outside to do it.
“No. I won’t do it.” I shook my head so hard my vintage cat-eye glasses tried to fly off my face. I grabbed them and settled them back in place. “Mairi and Xavier count on these jobs. They’re good at what they do.”
“I’m sure they are, but it won’t be that hard for them to find a different seasonal job.” Nathan reached down to snag his briefcase as he pushed to his feet. “You have a real problem here. If you look over the numbers yourself, I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion.”
I didn’t argue with him as he walked past the large instrument safe and left my office. There wasn’t any point in arguing—the man had made up his mind.
Well, that was fine, because I’d made up my mind, too.
I grabbed the file and hid it at the back of one of the desk drawers. Then I followed Nathan out of the office.
Mairi looked up from where she was reorganizing a pile of strings for the umpteenth time.
My fingers itched to reach out and take over the project, but I knew my employees would just redo it after I left, so I looked through the glass doors at Nathan’s retreating back and pretended like I couldn’t see the pile of strings.
That does actually help, if you’re wondering. If you pretend you can’t see something, all your effort goes into that job instead of putting your focus on the whole I-shouldn’t-do-what-I-want-to thought.
I looked around the empty room and decided it didn’t matter, anyway. Mairi needed something to fill up her time. “Have we had any customers?”
Honestly, my little violin shop usually did really well. Okay, fine, it had done well the past two years. The years I’d been running it. Before that? Who knows.
I couldn’t understand what was different this year. It wasn’t like it was the first year people could order things on their phones.
We’d started the summer off well. There had been a rush of business with the whole murder-of-the-concert-master thing. People came in for information, and they usually bought something, even if it was small, to make themselves feel better about using that connection with us to get what they wanted—which was gossip, pure and simple.
“Piper came in,” Mairi said, gathering up a stack of the little string envelopes and sliding them into the spot she was convinced they belonged.
The organization method in my shop didn’t make sense to me, but Mairi and Xavier assured me they were displaying the merchandise in the most beneficial way. It was decided that my more . . . whimsical displays just confused the customers.
“When I told her you were in a meeting with the accountant, she couldn’t get away fast enough.” Mairi gathered up another little stack and set it beside the first.
My hand twitched toward the envelopes. “Are you sure we can’t organize the strings by instrument instead of brand?”
“No touching.” Mairi swatted my hand away with a mock frown.
Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t a real frown. If it was, she’d have had those railroad track lines between her eyebrows. When you see those almost-vertical lines in printed music, they’re telling you to pause for a breath. On the rare occasions they show up on Mairi’s face, you do the same thing.
Mairi went on, completely ignoring my idea for how to reorganize the strings. “Piper had to meet with someone before the symphony rehearsal. She said to tell you she’d come back later. Xavier should be back from lunch soon. Why don’t you take your lunch now?”
I almost reminded her that I was the boss, but I had an appointment to get to, and I was determined to be on time for once.
My questionable relationship with time wasn’t something I normally agonized over, but after that obnoxiously blunt meeting with the accountant, I wanted to make a good impression.
Because even before Nathan reminded me that accountants didn’t look at numbers as flexible things, I knew the shop hadn’t had a great summer and something had to be done.
Hence the appointment.
I know you’re curious what I was up to, but put a fermata over that thought for a minute. We’ll get there.
“I’ll be gone for a bit.” I didn’t bother explaining where I was going. Knowing my employees, they’d just be happy to have me out of their hair. “If Piper comes back before I do, tell her I’ll see her tonight.”
The glass door swung closed behind me as I stepped outside and pulled in a breath of fresh mountain air.
I had to keep the shop alive. Running it during the symphony’s summer season was the only routine I had. It was the only time I stayed in one place for a set amount of time. And it wasn’t just that I needed an income to save for my months on the road. The summer season was the time I caught up with friends.
Grabbing the bicycle tucked around the side of the shop, I hopped on and started to pedal Clover down the path toward the lower level of the enormous mountain campus. When I could see the amphitheater at the end of a long grassy area where people could spread blankets to lay back and enjoy the concerts, I turned left and went down to the parking area.
There was the sound of a car door closing, and a familiar voice called out. “Heading out for the day, Octavia?”
I braked to a stop alongside one of the luthiers I’d borrowed to handle instrument repairs for the season. “No, I’ll be back in a while. I didn’t realize you were at lunch.”
Jamie shifted a little. “I finished clamping the open bout on a viola and decided to eat before getting too deep into another project. You’d just gone into a meeting and I didn’t want to interrupt to let you know I was leaving.”
Uh-oh. Had I sounded accusing? Piper had made a habit over the past month or so—ever since the whole murder debacle—of saying I was getting snippy.
Which, if you know me, is ridiculous. I try not to get bogged down by silly details when I could just let people live their own lives. Besides, half the time people don’t even pay attention to what ditzy Octavia has to say.
But none of that has stopped Piper from deciding I miss a certain detective and that I’m taking it out on everyone around me.
She’s wrong, by the way. There’s no use being upset when you haven’t seen a person in weeks. People flow in and out of each other’s lives all the time. If we’re meant to see each other again, we will.
“Octavia?” Jamie prodded.
Oops. What had I missed? “I know you’ll get work done on time. You can take breaks whenever you need them.”
And that didn’t sound presumptuous at all, did it? Giving him permission to take breaks.
Jamie nodded and hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Are you just getting your lunch, then?”
Lunch? Food sounded like a good idea, but— “Oh, right! I have to go so I’m not late.”
Not waiting for a response, I propelled Clover across the parking lot and onto the winding canyon road. With any luck, my plan would work and I’d be angling my shop into a space where no one, not even Nathan the accountant, would need to worry about having to choose any employees to fire.
Whichever way you turn when leaving Aerie Pines, a few miles down the road you’ll find a summer music program. If you’re heading down the mountain, you’ll find a camp that only the best of the best musicians in high school are accepted into. In the other direction, up near the canyon pass, there’s a campus where musicians from universities nationwide have the privilege of working with some of the world’s best musicians and conductors.
When Clover and I left the parking lot, we headed up the canyon.
As I rode past the small gravel drive leading to the clearing where I lived each summer, I couldn’t help waving. I didn’t really expect Frenzy—the squirrel who’d adopted me—or Buttercup—a doe who’d become a hesitant friend of mine—would see me, but just in case they did, it felt rude not to acknowledge them.
Several curves later, I came to a gate. A proper stone-pillars-and-wrought-iron kind of gate. I’m not even sure why they had it, other than the fact that it made the place look official.
I mean, I guess they probably locked the gates during the off season. But I’d heard that during the other seasons the university used the campus for other programs, which meant they didn’t need to lock up the property.
What other programs would want to send students up to a place that was surely isolated and buried in several feet of snow all winter?
Mentally shrugging the topic away, I passed under the arched iron between the pillars and made my way along the paved drive to what could only be called a mansion. Well, maybe it could be called a manor house. Or, if you’re boring, the Administration Building.
Because why would you put something other than offices in such a fantastic building?
I leaned Clover against the wall and hurried up the steps, the stones cool on the soles of my feet.
On the other side of the impressive foyer—seriously, it was big enough to fit a symphony—an office door stood open. I made my way over and stepped inside.
Behind a desk that lacked any personality, a woman looked up. Stress pinched her face. “Octavia. I tried calling your shop, but you’d already left. The director is running behind today. Do you mind waiting? It will be at least half an hour.”
I blinked. Someone else was running behind? I’d have to remember to tell Piper I wasn’t the only one who was late for things. “Of course. Is it okay if I wander?”
The woman—I’d forgotten her name, even though we’d been introduced three or four times—nodded. “We have an open campus. Just respect closed doors.”
That wouldn’t be a problem. I had no desire to poke around the administration building, as beautiful as it was. I wanted to breathe the fresh air.
At the back of the foyer, large doors opened onto a raised stone patio. I made my way down the steps and buried my toes in the grass. On the far side of the lawn, a stand of trees called to me, so I made my way over and walked along the tree line until I found a path heading into the woods.
I looked up at the sky, trying to tell what time it was. Did I have time to wander farther away?
A breeze danced around me, pulling at my hair as if the trees themselves were reaching out to draw me into their midst.
I brushed my fingers along the nearest branch. I’d been on time for the appointment. If they ended up having to wait a bit for me in exchange, that was fair. And if the director had a problem with that, he could take it up with the trees. I was only answering their invitation to play.
Following the pull, I stepped under the branches and made my way along the path. Not far into the woods, the breeze fell still and the branches stopped their faint rustling.
I almost turned back, but a quiet sound came from around the next bend. Something about it urged me on. Moving carefully, I crept forward. The path turned, widening into a clearing.
In the center of the clearing was a couple. She was stretched out on the ground, while the man was on his knees leaning over her. As he shifted, I got a better look at the woman.
Her arms were flung open at weird angles, and her eyes were unfocused.
Worst of all, a thin white stick with a light brown bulb on the end was poking out of her chest.
