Love at First Note Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rico’s Taco Truck. I haven’t been there in ages.”
    “It’s not Rico’s anymore. It’s Rosa’s, I think, but word is it’s still just as good.”
    “Then Rosa’s Taco Truck. Come on. What do you say?”
    I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. “Okay, I guess. It’s on my way home, so yeah. Let’s go get tacos.”
    We sat on a bench just down the sidewalk from the taco truck that for two years had served as our favorite post–symphony rehearsal hangout. We held on to steaming to-go boxes filled with Rosa’s finest: corn tortillas held together with a thick layer of melted cheese, overflowing with onions and cilantro, grilled chicken, and spicy chorizo. I squeezed lime juice on my first taco and took a bite.
    “This”—I nodded my head—“is a taco. Taco Bell does not make tacos.”
    Grayson hummed his agreement in between bites. “Agreed,” he finally said. “I don’t know who Rosa is, but I think I like her better than Rico.”
    A few more bites into our tacos and Grayson put his container down on the bench beside him. “I didn’t mean to sound judgmental, Emma.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “About leaving Cleveland. I’m sorry if I seemed rude.”
    “It’s not a big deal. You’re not the first person to question, but I’m happy here. I’m glad to be back.”
    “Are you playing anywhere else?”
    “Not yet. I plan to, but I’m still trying to figure out how my schedule is going to work. I’m teaching five days a week, and with— ” I almost said “with my mom” but stopped short. I spent every Tuesday and Friday morning with Mom, grocery shopping, going to doctor’s appointments, and doing housework, but I didn’t like to talk about it. It was impossible to mention it without people trying to turn my time with her into some grand magnanimous gesture or near-holy sacrifice. But it wasn’t like that. She was my mom, and she needed me. End of discussion. “With other
stuff
that’s going on, I’m not sure how much I can commit to. There’s an audition for associate concertmaster in Atlanta in a couple of months,” I said. “I am thinking about that one.”
    “Associate? Really?”
    I shot him a look. “I’ll take what’s available. I want to play. I need to stay in Asheville. Maybe it’s not the perfect opportunity, but it’s enough for me right now. I have other re asons for moving back, so this”—I motioned to the city around me—“has to be enough.”
    “Enough?” He shook his head. “That sounds a little like you’re settling.”
    “Prioritizing is different from settling.”
    “It
is
your mom, isn’t it?” Grayson asked.
    I closed my container and placed it on the sidewalk between my feet. “Can we not talk about this?”
    “I’m not trying to pry. But I do care about your mom. I’m sorry if her health is failing.”
    “Her health isn’t failing; she’s just had a few setbacks.”
    “I’m sorry. Would you tell her I said hello?”
    Mom had always loved Grayson. She liked that we had music in common and had defended him more than once when our nosy neighbor with her archaic beliefs liked to complain about me dating a black guy. Still, she was happy when we broke up. Grayson wasn’t LDS, which precluded him from the perfect little scrapbooks Mom had encouraged me to fill with pictures of temples and butterflies and knights in shiny returned -missionary armor.
    “I’ll tell her,” I said. “So what about you? I wasn’t sure you would even play after high school. But you’re good. You’ve kept it up.”
    “I didn’t at first,” Grayson said. “But I missed it after a while, so I joined a community orchestra in Raleigh that I stayed with all through college. After I moved back home, I joined the s ymphony in Hendersonville.”
    “If Bruno’s gone three weeks, he’ll probably miss Asheville’s next concert. You want to play in his spot? I’ll vouch for you with the conductor if you want in.”
    “That’d be