Counterpointe Read Online Free Page B

Eliason.
     
    She wore a simple green dress that flattered her slender figure, and her hair, tightly styled during the performance, was now a silken fall of rich brown that reached the middle of her back. Her eyes, a color he could not quite name from across the room, were an arresting contrast to the dark hair. The vividness she’d projected onstage was muted, as if a light had been dimmed inside her, but her serene, self-possessed manner still made her the most compelling woman present.
     
    Lynne nodded in Clare’s direction. “I see Justin is taking care of his star.”
     
    “Justin?”
     
    “The artistic director. Would you like to meet Ms. Eliason?”
     
    Rob shook his head, although he felt a totally absurd relief to discover the man with Clare was there in an official, not personal, capacity.
     
    “Oh, come on, big brother. I saw that look. Besides, I owe you one.” Lynne pulled on his arm, and he gave in, letting her tow him across the room.
     

    Easing down from her performance high, Clare responded to compliments and comments as Justin introduced her to one elderly matron after another. These were the angels responsible for the donations critical to the company’s financial health.
     
    “Lynne, it’s good to see you here.” Justin embraced a woman who was much too young to be labeled a matron. He also kissed her cheek, a gesture he granted only a select few. “Clare, allow me to present Lynne Galt, one of our most generous supporters.”
     
    Translation: Major angel alert. Be very, very nice to this person.
     
    Lynne took Clare’s hand between hers. “We met last fall, right after Giselle , but I don’t expect you to remember. You have been simply amazing this year.”
     
    It was an excellent thing, of course, for a first-tier angel to gush over your performances. “Thank you...so much for your support. It means the world to me...to us.” Ugh. That support line sounded like something from an insurance company ad, but she was too tired to come up with more gracious phrasing.
     
    “I can hardly wait to see you in Swan Lake next year.” Lynne released her hand and tapped Justin on the arm. “And shame on you, making us wait until the end of next season for that.”
     
    Justin chuckled. “It’s a rule. Always save the best for last.”
     
    “Indeed.” Lynne Galt shook her head in mock reproach before nodding her head to include her companion. “Ms. Eliason, Justin, my brother, Rob Chapin. Rob’s a terrible philistine, but he had to admit he enjoyed your performance.”
     
    The brother, whose studious appearance was enhanced by wire-rim glasses and rumpled hair, shook Justin’s hand before turning his attention to Clare. “Cincinnati’s loss is clearly Boston’s gain.”  
     
    The voice was good and Clare had always been a sucker for a good voice. She smiled, a safer response than more of the claptrap that had come out of her mouth earlier. Lord, she hated these affairs, necessary though they might be.
     
    Lynne and Justin stepped to one side, to speak privately, marooning Clare with the serious brother.
     
    “What do you think of Boston so far?” he asked.
     
    “I’ve been so busy since I arrived, I haven’t really had time to form an opinion.”
     
    “That’s a shame. Boston has so much to offer. I’d be honored if you’d allow me to introduce you.”
     
    “That’s nice of you, but it’s too much trou—”
     
    “Not at all. One of my chief pleasures in life is introducing people to Boston.”
     
    “And,” Justin said, breaking in, “you won’t find anyone more qualified to show you around than a member of Lynne’s family.”
     
    The sister, the angel, appeared bemused.
     
    “How about it, Ms. Eliason? Would Saturday morning be convenient?”
     
    How could she turn down an invitation delivered by a close relative of a major donor and endorsed by her artistic director? Answer: she couldn’t. “That would be lovely.”
     
    Rob Chapin pulled a