~Tahlia.

If I were a writer of the romance novels I enjoyed reading in my spare time, I would have likely written in some entertaining padding material regarding Simon Bale's week playing in our home band—thrown in laughable anecdotes of his rudeness to the other musicians and constant friction with the band director. But given writing books is not one of my talents, I will not prove presumptuous by doing so. Suffice it to say Mr. Bale lasted all of six and a half days before my father finally granted the request our band director had been making since day one and fired him.

The band had performed two concerts with Mr. Bale at the head of the saxophone section, and his performances were always stellar, to be fair. His technique was second to none, and each solo was as dazzling as the last. Not to mention his monstrous sound, which filled the entire chamber, yet never became obnoxious or piercing.

The main problem, aside from interpersonal issues, was that Mr. Bale stood out too much. We had come downstairs to hear our band, after all, but this man played as if all the others were only there to accompany him. He would often take the allotted improvisation time for three players all to himself, and though he filled the space with ingenious idea after ingenious idea, I couldn't help but notice the disappointment on the other musicians' faces.

Mr. Bale did not leave on good terms, either. He departed in a sour mood, cursing my father to his face and berating his fellow musicians as being "not good enough to keep up" as he went. My father's face became hardened steel at his words, but he refrained from replying. When a servant shut the door behind Mr. Bale, all present in the room—namely myself, my parents, and our band director—breathed a collective sigh.

"With all due respect, Mr. Paige," the director said after a moment of serene silence, "I'm beginning to lose faith in the guild, if men such as him and Mr. Reins truly bear their stamp of approval."

I stifled a snicker at the mention of Mr. Reins, whose bandmates had proclaimed him to have the memory of a goldfish. He had barely attained to the age of thirty, yet misplaced things like an old man, even going so far as to forget to bring his trumpet on stage on three separate occasions. He had done nothing malicious to be fired; he simply had proven himself too incompetent.

"...can't afford to forget you came from the guild yourself, Director." my father said as I began tuning back into the conversation.

"I know that, Mr. Paige, but ... it's as if the guild has changed since you hired me. They don't demand the same excellence they used to, it seems."

My father laughed. "It would be unwise to judge an entire orchard based on a few bad apples."

"Well yes, but how many bad apples can one man eat before he grows sick?" The director's eyes managed to appear both earnest and humorous all at once.

"You make a good point. I'll visit the guild's office myself and explain our situation. Perhaps they'll improve their screening process if they are made aware the Paiges' patronage is on the line."

"That would be wise. Thank you, Mr. Paige."

My father dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Of course."

With that, the director stepped away and left me with my parents. I came very near to backing away and excusing myself as well, but then I noticed a mischievous glance pass between the two of them, which naturally piqued my interest and kept me in place.

"You two are grinning at one another as if you have plans to eat me." I remarked with a sly smirk of my own, "I believe I am owed an explanation."

"That is not quite our intention." my mother replied vaguely, "Your father discovered a new coffee shop downtown and now wishes to take you along on a second visit."

I quirked a brow. "Somehow, that explanation seems incomplete. A simple cup of coffee clearly isn't all you have in mind."

With a hearty chuckle, my father laid his hand on my shoulder and kissed my forehead. "The owner's son who works the register is a fine young lad. That's all I'll say."

I backed off a couple steps and narrowed my eyes playfully. "Papa!"

His smile only broadened. "You are of age, Tahlia; it's only natural I should keep my eyes open for such things."

"And what of Benjamin? He is also of age, yet I don't see you—"

"Benjamin is a different case. He needs no help in being distracted from his studies by the young ladies around him."

I couldn't help but laugh at just how true that was. My elder brother was at once the most diligent and the most distracted man I knew. His photograph belonged next to the definition of oxymoronic.

"At any rate, if you please, I'd like to treat my daughter to a cup of coffee or some such." my father said with a grin so charming I couldn't refuse even if I'd wanted to.

Still, I pretended annoyance by rolling my eyes and expelling a sigh. "If you insist, I suppose I'll oblige you."

So I headed upstairs to put some shoes and a coat on, then followed my father to our car out front. A short drive to downtown Silverport, and we had arrived. I glanced over the building before us as we approached, which I recalled having recently been vacated after serving as a bookstore for some months. I'd bought a good few of my favorite books from that store, but unfortunately, I was nearly their only customer. Opening a bookstore across the street from a library was perhaps not the brightest of business decisions, after all.

Nonetheless, the place now served as a coffee shop, and if my impression of it from the sidewalk was accurate, it possessed a cozy atmosphere with antique charm. When my father held the door open for me and beckoned me through, the pleasant aroma of coffee hit my nose immediately, a surprise to absolutely no one. All around were round tables occupied by happy customers who sipped various drinks and nibbled at pastries. Several of them acknowledged me with welcoming smiles as I walked by.

My father guided me to the register to order, and I shortly spotted the young man he'd been hyping up. Judging by his eyes, he appeared slightly younger than myself, but his rather full beard lended greater maturity to the rest of his face, and the fact it was a well-groomed beard indicated he was no teenager when it came to self-care. When he smiled at me, I noted his very white teeth.

"Good afternoon!" the cashier greeted, "Welcome to Brewer's Coffee Shop!"

I giggled. "Brewer's, eh?"

"Yeah, we were destined for this from the very start, I guess. What can I get you?"

I glanced back at my father before letting my eyes dart over the menu. "I'll just take a mocha, large."

He nodded and punched in the order on his register before taking my father's order of a large black coffee with some sort of long glazed biscuit for us to share. Then he excused himself to use the restroom while I waited for our order.

The moment my father was out of eyesight, the cashier appeared emboldened to speak more freely with me, making an innocent inquiry as to my name, but calling me a "stunning young lady" in the process. When I told him, he immediately followed up with "How lovely ... that sounds like a mother's name". Needless to say, I cringed. He may have excelled at appearing older than he truly was, but that front of maturity failed to extend to his conversation.

Once our drinks and the pastry were ready, I grabbed them and headed for the back, where all the empty tables awaited, and coincidentally where I could best avoid the blunt cashier.

As I sat down, I cast a glance over the back half of the coffee shop, where the lack of windows contributed to the sparser population of customers at the tables. However, I also spotted a small stage in the corner, where a trio of musicians currently set up to play. One man with spindly fingers and a patchy beard worked on tuning a guitar, while a well-built pianist set sheet music atop his stand. The third thrummed quietly on a double bass with eyes clenched shut but lips parted.

After setting his music straight, the pianist rose and picked up a sign that had been laying flat under his seat. After he it upright, I could read it said, "Casual jam session - come join us!" with a crudely scribbled smile beside the words. Then he sat down, and the three musicians gently set into some quiet musical piece with the guitar and piano playing two separate melodies that wove together into one enjoyable whole, the bass providing a solid foundation.

The sound of a zipper a few tables down caught my attention, so I glanced over to see a tall man with light skin and blond hair opening up a saxophone case. He stood with his back to me and assembled the instrument with a smooth familiarity one rarely witnessed from a musician of non-Lymar origin.

His back remained to me as he strolled up to the stage and leaned toward the pianist's ear. After a moment, the pianist nodded, abruptly quit the tune his trio had been playing, and mouthed something to the other two. They also bobbed their heads up and down, and waited for the saxophonist to count them off.

The moment I heard the first chord, I recognized the tune, "O Wanderer Far From Home", a tune I must have heard every saxophonist ever tackle. It was understandably a staple of sentimental music, but I'd heard the song so many times I had frankly grown tired of it.

But when the saxophonist turned around and blew that distinctive nine-note sequence that began the melody, I knew myself to have been foolish to judge so hastily. His sound was like no other I had heard—simple, yet elegant. His tone struck me as rich and full, with a wide vibrato that expressed a great depth of soul in the player. It was if he weren't simply playing a song, but speaking to my very soul through the bell of that saxophone. His phrasing was simple, yet not rudimentary, for simplicity was all he required to convey his ideas.

The saxophonist's playing had so gripped me that I forgot I had a cup of mocha in my hands. Taking a sip, I peered at his long, handsome face, which seemed familiar somehow, yet I didn't recall having seen him at any point before. I found that strange, given Candorian men like him weren't a common sight in Silverport, so if I had seen him, I would have remembered.

All too soon, the saxophonist finished the melody, played an understated solo, waited for the pianist to take a solo of his own, then played the melody again, and that was that. To my disappointment, he opted not to stay to play more tunes. I joined in the hearty round of applause from the tables surrounding me, which I suddenly realized had grown significantly in population since the music began.

Such excellence warranted a reward, I decided, so I opened my purse, pulled out a few bills, and walked over to the table where the saxophonist stood and put his instrument away. With a kind smile, I put the money down on his table.

"That was quite touching; thank you." I commented, "Your sound is beautiful."

He glanced up with a surprised smile, gratitude in his light blue eyes. "Thank you, ma'am. That ... that really means a lot."

"Of course! It seems most who pick up your instrument these days approach it with the intent to dazzle and impress, but you have something special; you speak to the heart."

"That is the point of music, isn't it?" he said with an enthusiastic yet shy grin, "Being dazzling is short-lived, I think. You can't impress people forever, but the feelings of the heart ... well, I guess that's timeless."

I nodded vigorously. "Quite true. Well, keep up what you're doing; it's excellent."

"Thanks again, ma'am. Have a good day."

I returned his well wishes before returning to my table, where I saw my father had finally returned from the restroom. And of course, he appeared to have witnessed my entire interaction with the blond saxophonist, judging by the knowing smirk on his face. If there was one man in the world who could be given awards for simultaneously being the most vexing and most lovable, it would be my father, Phillip Paige.

* * * * * 

A/N: Well, I'd say this chapter's taken Tahlia places, don'tcha think? From a temperamental saxophonist storming out, to a sentimental saxophonist's soothing tones...I have to say I envy her 😂

Anyways, if you enjoyed the chapter, please remember to vote and comment! I appreciate it as always. ❤️

For our random question of the day, what's the last book you read here on Wattpad?

(For me...I haven't been great at keeping on top of things here; been busier setting up my Discord server, but I believe the last I read was the latest (at the time) chapter of Healing Wounds by -dilenu. Touching story so far; definitely recommend 😁)

And that'll be it for me for the week! Hope you're doing great, and I'll see you in the next update!