The Chandler Legacy
Entering the passcode on her screen, she opened the dating app. She had more private messages, one from a gentleman who looked like her favorite uncle. She scrunched her nose and deleted his message without reading it. She hadn’t actually read any of the messages fully. She only saw part of the first line, which was previewed under the subject line. She didn’t know if the sender could tell if she had opened the messages or not. Instead she let them pile up, reducing the likelihood of responding. She clicked on a few more profiles.
Despite her reservations, she was entertained by what people wrote in their profiles. Some kept their introductory lines simple, describing their interests and professions. Others got creative. She stopped short at the profile of a good-looking caramel-colored man with a smooth black goatee, assuming she’d be intrigued by his summary. Instead, what she found caused abrupt laughter to erupt from her mouth.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
She read the words under his picture again.
Roses are red, violets are tan,
You finally found your perfect man.
Giggling, she took a screenshot of his profile with the cheesy poem and tapped a quick text to her girlfriends on their group chat and uploaded the image.
This is why online dating is a bad idea! LOL!
That text would serve as a source of amusement for the rest of their day. Returning to the dating app and shaking her head, she closed the window of his profile. The next one featured a full-body picture of what looked like a rather handsome man. Serenity zoomed in to see his face better. His summary said he loved music, travel and great wines. The information he provided was minimal, and for some reason that intrigued her. She looked at his zip code and realized that he was also from Nassau County.
The school bell rang long and piercingly. She flinched, launching from her seat. One hand flew to her chest, while the other tightened the grip on her cell phone to keep it from flying out of her hand. In that short amount of time, she’d forgotten where she was.
“Goodness!” She recovered her breath, sighed and opened the music-room door. The second bell rang, and students poured from classrooms, filling the halls with a high volume of chatter.
“Hey, Ms. Williams.”
“Hey, Melanie.”
Serenity held her hand up for Melanie and her other students to slap her high five. Some of the crowd carried their loud chatter from the hallway into her classroom. Girls snickered, boys laughed, friends promised to meet after class.
The next forty-three minutes would take her mind off the dating site. Serenity was thankful for the reprieve. She was curious about the man named Chris Mullins. She pushed him to the back of her mind and closed the door.
“Okay, everyone. Settle down, take your seats and take out your music books. We’re going to start by reading notes. We’re learning a new song today. Turn to page two-fourteen.”
“Sing for us, Ms. Williams,” one of her students called out.
“Open your books, guys.” Serenity smiled and shook her head. She loved everything about music, and she would sing or play one of several instruments for her class when they behaved well.
“Please?” students chorused.
“Yes, Ms. Williams. Please?”
“You promised!”
“I did?” She scanned the room with a skeptical gaze.
“Yes. You said if all of us handed in our papers on time that you’d sing for us next class.”
“Okay, okay.”
Serenity walked over to the piano, sat down, opened one of the music books and flipped through the pages. They loved when she taught them how to play popular music—especially songs from their favorite artists. “Turn to page ninety-six in your music books. I’ll start singing and, those who know how to play the song, join me on the chorus.”
Their response was collective. One student pumped his trumpet in the air.
Serenity cleared her throat, and the room fell into absolute silence. Delicately she fingered the intro on the piano keys and began singing the first verse to one of the most popular songs on the radio.
“Yeah, Ms. W!”
Serenity laughed but didn’t break her flow. She was a good singer but a better musician. Some students snapped their fingers. Others waved. One stood and pretended to dance with an imaginary partner. Serenity chuckled at his dramatic display but relished the fact that her students appreciated her talent and loved music as much as she did.
She held one hand high, lifting a finger, signaling her students of the upcoming chorus. Without missing a beat, she raised her eyebrows. The students took that as their cue and lifted their instruments in preparation. After four head nods from her, they joined in, undergirding her voice with their harmonies. Once the class picked up the rhythm, Serenity stood, still singing, pushing deeper into the song, now feeling it on the inside.
Walking the tempo, she made her way around the room, careful to acknowledge each student with a smile or wink. She made her way back to the front by the time she released the last note into the air, holding it long enough for her students to stop playing, stand and begin cheering.
“Oh my gosh, Ms. Williams! That was amazing.”
“So dope,” one young man said.
Her smile radiated from her core. She curtsied, taking in her adoring students’ applause.
“Okay, now. Let’s get to work.”
“Okay,” someone whined.
Serenity guided them through their lesson. As usual the class came to a rapid end—the bell ringing while they were still playing.
“Okay—” Serenity clapped and shouted over the varying sounds of the instruments “—we’re done. Don’t forget to pick up a permission slip on my desk for the show. Make sure a parent signs them. Remember, your artist profiles are due next time.”
Quickly, the students replaced their instruments in their cases and stacked them in closets. The class was completely cleared seconds after the second bell.
Serenity plopped into her chair feeling both exhilarated and winded. Teaching took so much energy but gave her so much joy. She had a free period, which she planned to spend preparing for her next group. Wheeling her chair snugly into the opening of her desk, she tapped the space bar on the computer, bringing the screen to life. Her phone buzzed. She’d temporarily forgotten about the dating app, but now it would dominate her focus again.
Just as she picked up the phone, Rayne rapped on the door two quick times before stepping in.
“How’s it going?”
“Great! They made me sing again.”
“That’s because they love you.”
“I guess so.”
“Give any more thought to the dating app?” Rayne sat on the corner of the desk and plucked a mini candy bar from the dish Serenity kept there.
Serenity shrunk into her shoulders. “Yeah.”
“You did?” Rayne’s eyes opened as wide as her gaping mouth. “Cool!”
Serenity rolled her eyes. “Don’t make such a big deal about it. I just perused some of the profiles.”
“Oh! See anything you like?” Rayne lifted a brow and popped the unwrapped candy in her mouth. Balling up the shiny cover, she shot it toward the wastepaper basket as if she were going for a layup.
“Nice shot.”
“So. Any prospects?”
“Not quite yet. I did see a few cute guys though. Some are nuts, just like I anticipated.”
“Oh my goodness! I laughed so hard at that horrible poem you sent. Did that guy message you?”
“He and a bunch of others, but I haven’t responded to anyone yet.”
“Why not?”
Serenity shrugged and sat back in her chair. “I need to get more comfortable with this first.” Her mind shifted to the image of Chris Mullins again. She wondered what else was in his profile, but the old-fashioned girl in her refused to let her believe that pursuing him was a good idea. She wasn’t sure how to apply the dating rules to all this online stuff, nor did she know if she was willing to make the first move.
“All right. Keep me posted. I need to go grade some essays.” Rayne slid off the desk. “I’ll see you later, right?”
“Of course. Would I miss Elisa’s birthday dinner? Actually, the real question is, would I miss the duck confit appetizer at Gem?”
“Or that beautiful black rice. Yum!”
“Ha! You’re making my mouth water.” Serenity looked at her watch. “I haven’t even had lunch yet.”
“Remember to keep it light.”
“I will, so I can have room for all that deliciousness later tonight.” Serenity rubbed her belly. “I think it was a good idea for Clint to surprise her with a dinner today instead of on the weekend. I’m sure Elisa isn’t expecting us to be there.”
“I know. She thinks we’re going out Friday instead. I can’t wait to see her face.” Rayne started for the door. “Later, lady.” She tossed a wave over her shoulder as she exited.
“Later.”
Serenity gathered the remaining permission slips on her desk, neatened them and tapped the bottom of the pile against the desktop to line them up. She placed them in a manila folder and set it in a tray. Her phone buzzed. She looked at it, paused and returned to what she was doing. She picked up the pile of homework her students had handed in and began reading the summaries on the history of jazz. She glanced at the phone once more. This time, it didn’t buzz.
The first few lines of the first summary she had started hadn’t made sense, so she read it over again. The work wasn’t poorly written. She just couldn’t concentrate on her students’ papers because her mind was on the messages in the app.
“That’s it!” she declared. “This app is making me crazy.” What was the use if she didn’t plan on checking any of the messages anyway?
Serenity snatched the phone, tapped in her passcode, then held the app down so she could open and then delete it. Pausing again, she was compelled to review the profiles one last time. After that, she’d be done with it. Just then a new message arrived in her inbox. It was from Chris Mullins. The subject simply said Hello. It was the first line that caught her attention, so she clicked on it to bring up the full message. This Chris didn’t call her baby, write a bad poem or offer up a lame pick-up line. His message was simple.
Hi. It seems that you really like music. Do you play any instruments? I play the sax.
Serenity’s thumb hovered over the reply icon for several moments. The debate in her mind was whether or not she should respond, or back out and hit Delete. The pressure was palpable. Why was she making this a big deal? Her reservations mounted. What if he was a stalker? He could be misrepresenting himself. Maybe he was crazy. Why was she even using online dating?
This guy looked decent enough. He was pretty handsome in the one and only picture he posted—and he was fully clothed. There were no pecs, six-packs or weird, phony-looking model poses. His profile was new, like hers—simple.
“I can’t,” Serenity said to herself, sighing, and dropped her hands.
She opened the bottom desk drawer, unzipped her purse and tossed the phone in. It would stay there for the remainder of her workday.
Chapter 6
Chris, Ray and Kent navigated the congested streets of New York’s busy Times Square area with confidence in their stride. Tourists strolled aimlessly with their eyes toward the sky, while agitated natives wound through the maze of people speaking a tapestry of dialects. Chris caught snatches of the few languages he understood and wondered about the ones he couldn’t detect.
Broadway—the street—was a show unto itself. Entrance into the theaters wasn’t necessary for theatrics. There was enough of that with the costumed characters walking around and encouraging people to take pictures with them, then wanting money. The area was littered with painted naked women, superheroes, Statues of Liberty on stilts and metallic-toned cowboys who held their breath for dollars.
“Here we are.” Kent stopped walking, looked up at the large silver numbers on the building and shielded his eyes from the glaring sun.
The three headed through stately glass doors into a well-lit lobby of slate-colored granite, with a long security desk featuring a chrome logo of the media conglomerate’s name. A woman sat at the desk, her lips easing into a delightful grin when they approached. Eager to assist, she caught their attention before her coworker could turn around.
Chris stepped up first, gave his name and then the name of the person they were scheduled to meet. The woman asked for their identification and directed them to the elevator that would take them to where they needed to go. Inside the office, a petite young woman greeted them, leading them down a hall lined with large mounted posters of magazine covers. She guided them into a cozy room with soothing sage walls, gray couches and shabby-chic decor. Her gaze lingered on Chris as he moved through the door. After inviting them to get comfortable, she left.
“This is going to be great for business,” Ray mentioned, taking in the view overlooking Times Square from several stories up.
“For sure!” Kent agreed. “When will this issue come out, again?”
“May, around the same time as the gala.” Chris sat and brushed imaginary lint off his pant leg.
Had he been completely honest with his buddies, Chris would have told them how nervous he was. He was no stranger to attention, nor had he ever required it, but this entire experience humbled him tremendously, setting his ego into remission. It felt great to be recognized for work that he loved. He was still processing the fact that the three of them were about to be interviewed for a cover story of one of the country’s largest lifestyle magazines. Their feature story would tell the world about their business venture and their quick rise to popularity, giving them exponential exposure. Chris would also be featured in a separate article as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors, which would also tell of him being honored for his contribution and service as the cochair of the board for the Chandler Foundation alongside his mother. Each of his siblings took turns serving with Elle except Jade, his younger sister, who currently served as the foundation’s executive director.
Ray and Chris sat while Kent paced the small tranquil space. The nervous energy he exuded contrasted with the serenity the room offered. Chris laughed, realizing Kent shared the same mental space.
“You’re not nervous?” Chris directed his question to Ray.
Ray rubbed his palms against his legs. “Yeah, man. This is some major exposure. Brynn came by this morning before work. She kept fussing over what outfit she wanted me to wear. I told her the magazine was supplying our clothes for the shoot anyway. She still insisted that I show up looking as dapper as usual. Heh!” Ray confidently popped his collar. “I’ll try not to make you two look bad.”
“Ha!” Their combined laughter filled the small space.
Moments later, the editor entered the room. With hair the color of fire, her kinks evenly extended about six inches from her head. Smooth, almond-colored skin looked like butter. Her big smile was inviting.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I’m Chandra, business editor. Welcome to Eclipse magazine. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” She firmly shook hands with each.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Ray nodded.
“Thank you for this opportunity.” Kent smiled. “Whoa!” he teased regarding her firm handshake. “You’ve got some arm there.”
“I think it’s safe to say the pleasure is ours.” Chris cupped Chandra’s soft hand between his. “And yes, thanks so much for this opportunity.”
Chandra’s neck shifted like a lever as she swallowed. She cleared her throat and smiled. Her smile held a hint of seduction and turned inviting. Chris could tell she thought he was flirting, but he wasn’t.
“You’re quite charming, Mr. Chandler.” Chandra’s head tilted slightly.
“Thank you.” Aware of his effect, he patted the back of her hand and let it go.
Chandra cleared her throat once again and tugged her knee-length dress down. “Our team is preparing for your shoot. We’ll get started in a moment. In the meantime, please let me know if you need anything. We have refreshments for you and a wonderful lunch coming later.”
“Now you’re talking.” Kent rubbed his hands together.
Chandra laughed, then stole a glance at Chris before promising to send in her assistant with a few bottles of water as she left.
“Seems like she’s sweet on you, Chris.” Ray chuckled and looked to Kent to cosign.
“Yeah, I’d say so. Maybe you won’t need that dating site after all.”
“Right! Very funny!” Chris dismissed Kent’s comment with a wave.
He hadn’t thought about his profile on the dating site since he asked that woman about her musical interests. Suddenly he was curious to see if she had responded but didn’t want to check it in front of his buddies. They were sure to joke about it.
Out of all the women whose profiles he had perused, there was something honest about the one belonging to the woman who spoke about having a passion for teaching music. The fact that he was attracted to her authenticity was ironic, since his profile consisted of a few lies—well, the last name and city he had listed were lies. But he did play the sax and trumpet, and he was an entrepreneur. He just hadn’t mentioned the businesses he owned or anything about his family’s legacy.
The assistant returned, snapping Chris out of his daze. They were ready to get them set up for their photo shoot. After that, he’d check to see if she’d responded to his message. Chris was surprised at his own desire to see if she had.
Chapter 7
Serenity hit her doorstep with the weight of her entire day pulling her down. She’d listened to more than one hundred students play instruments with varying levels of skill. Some instruments shrieked and shrilled, forcing one of her eyes to close while the other widened from the harsh sounds. With an endearing smile, she had encouraged them to continue and told them how much they were improving. Most of the musicians in her upper grades played beautifully due to several years of practice.
After school, she had headed over to the community center to rehearse with the kids from her organization, Heartstrings. She founded the nonprofit with Rayne to help less-fortunate kids learn to play instruments while developing an appreciation for music and the arts. They managed to acquire donations for instruments and materials. Sometimes they were lucky enough to get visits from prominent musicians who liked what they were doing and wanted to show support.
They had a few months to prepare for their year-end concert. Serenity’s heart swelled as she listened to them play on this particular evening. They were especially good, proving that they practiced between sessions. She’d taught them about the ten-thousand-hour rule as a way to develop mastery and expertise. A few of her kids took that very seriously and began practicing diligently, charting the amount of time they spent playing their instruments.
Serenity stepped into her kitchen and flicked the lights on, disturbing the darkness there. She was still smiling as she transitioned her thoughts from her kids to what she wanted to eat for dinner. Opening the refrigerator, she stood scanning each shelf carefully. Finally, she pulled out feta cheese, romaine lettuce, tomatoes and a few other veggies to make her own version of a Greek salad. She washed the produce and left it in a strainer to dry while she showered and slipped into comfy lounge pants, fluffy socks and a T-shirt.
She made her salad, poured a cup of juice and folded herself in her favorite wing chair next to her bed. She loved that chair, which she’d inherited after her grandmother’s passing. If she sat still enough, she swore she could feel the warmth that had often radiated from her grandmother.
On a table adjacent to the chair, Serenity tapped a button on a small flat remote, turning on the Bluetooth, and used her phone to select a playlist that released the soothing melodies of instrumentals throughout the cozy space. With the remote, she also turned on the TV, muting the volume, filling the atmosphere with the energy of movement and lights, almost making it seem as if she weren’t home alone. That was how she liked it.
Moments later, her phone buzzed, silencing her music for a moment. Serenity picked up the phone and saw that she’d received another alert from the dating app. Once again, her thumb hovered over the app icon, contemplating its deletion. She hesitated long enough for her curiosity to get the upper hand. Thumbing through, she looked over the messages. The one from Chris Mullins stood out. He’d mentioned music.
Serenity opened the message and paused. She dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. Responding to this message would officially put her in the online dating game. What if he was crazy? She’d already gone over that in her mind multiple times. She decided to go ahead and answer. Adrenaline rushed to her fingers. They trembled slightly as she positioned her thumbs over the phone’s keyboard. Suddenly, she couldn’t formulate a sensible reply in her head. How could she be so nervous and this guy wasn’t even around? He was simply a figment of a person, on the other side of a digital wall. What could she lose? What could she win?
Her fingers moved over the phone like rapid fire, preventing her from thinking too much or talking herself out of answering him back. She wasn’t sure of what she’d written until she read it over.
I love music and play several instruments—piano, violin, clarinet and sax also. You seem to be a music lover too.
By the time Serenity wrote, edited, deleted and re-wrote that simple message, she found herself breathing hard, as if typing caused her to exert physical energy. She laid the phone on the side table as if it were hot. Then she laughed. She laughed until tears streamed down her face. What was wrong with her? If she acted this way now, how would she act if she actually met this man in person? That would probably never happen, she thought, waving her hand in the air dismissively.
Serenity picked up her bowl and stabbed a hearty forkful of salad. Midway to her mouth, her phone buzzed again. She paused, steadying the food inches from her open mouth. Her heart rate quickened. She laid the fork in the bowl, carefully placed the bowl back on the table and picked up the phone. As she thought, it was the guy replying to her.
That was quick.
Serenity swiped her way to the message.
Wow! That’s cool. How long have you been playing?
That sparked an instant conversation via the in-app messaging system. Music had always been easy to talk about. The initial pressure she’d anxiously anticipated had quickly waned as their conversation continued. Within the next fifteen minutes, they knew of each other’s music-loving history, favorite musicians and best-rated performances. Comfort had sidled its way into their interaction. The first layer of Serenity’s heavily guarded defense system was down. Music was the Trojan horse.
The two exchanged email addresses, taking the conversation offline. Email was as personal as she was willing to get for now. Offering up her cell phone number wasn’t on the table yet. Perhaps that option would come later, after she’d gotten to know him more—as much as one could get to know someone via email.
When talk of music was temporarily exhausted, Chris treaded into a sea of more personal inquiries—but none too intrusive. He asked about her likes. She told him about her work teaching music to disadvantaged youth but carefully withheld the name of her organization and deliberately failed to mention that she was a founding partner. He mentioned that he sat on the board of a nonprofit organization that served youth. He too avoided naming his company.
He gives back to his community, Serenity deduced from his board involvement. She figured he was also straddling the line of giving just enough information. Technically they were still strangers, so she was fine with that. The conversation turned to family makeup. Serenity explained that she was an only child, initially raised by a single mother, and that she had always wanted sisters. Chris emailed about his three siblings and large lively family and joked about selling his three sisters to her for a nominal fee.