Betty added.
“No need.”
Maureen refused outright. She wasn’t short on money right now.
“Alright then, I’ll talk to the client. Boss, have you run into some trouble lately? Why haven’t you released anything new?”
Betty asked curiously.
Her boss Maureen was a real workhorse, famously creating three hit pieces overnight that earned industry–wide acclaim.
Even the music icons who performed those pieces asked to meet her privately, but she turned them all down.
She’d say, “As long as people enjoy the music, there’s no need to hunt down the creator behind it.”
Trouble…
Maureen pondered her assistant’s words, her gaze shifting to Geoffrey emerging from the kitchen, covered in dust.
The man stood tall with a reserved aura, yet he’d lost his memory overnight, gone blind, and completely changed personalities.
He was trouble indeed.
Maureen came back to Small Town this time mainly to accompany Zoe in her hometown during her final days.
She didn’t want Zoe to have regrets before passing, but never expected Geoffrey and the Sutton Family to latch onto her like this.
Maureen pulled her thoughts together and told her assistant Betty: “Release the next song at Christmas.”
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She’d finished composing it, but a few imperfect spots had stumped her on revisions.
“Got it.”
Betty tapped her keyboard: “Posting it across all platforms now.”
“Mm, okay.”
Since gaining fame, whenever Maureen released new work–unless for old friends–she’d preview it online first. Companies and singers would then bid for it later.
Betty usually handled pricing, and collaborations.
Except that one time when Maureen needed cash to float her company and sought out that Mr. Lawrence.
Now solvent again, she reinstated her original rules.
She wouldn’t pick buyers based on money, but on whether the singer fit the song.
So even deep pockets couldn’t guarantee her compositions.
News of Maureen’s Christmas release hit the top ten trending topics instantly.
Folks overseas noticed, and so did everyone back home.
Andrea had her assistant negotiate immediately upon discovering it.
Securing this new composition could revive her career.
But many others coveted it more fiercely, with greater wealth and influence.
In Moscow, a woman descended from the ballet stage like a haughty swan after her performance, approaching a tycoon.
“Dad, did you see the news?
I want Maestro Shi’s new piece.”
Her exquisite features bore a faint resemblance to Maureen’s.
The tycoon adored his favorite daughter, readily agreeing: “Of course. My Elizabeth gets whatever her heart desires.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved upward. “Thank you,
Dad.”
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“The performance is over. We should head home, or your mother will worry,” added Raymond Thompson.
“Alright.”
Elizabeth linked arms with Raymond as an attendant draped a shawl over her shoulders.
Before entering the car, Raymond remarked, “Perhaps it’s time to find you a boyfriend once we’re back.”
Elizabeth shook her head at this. “I don’t want any boyfriend. I’ll stay with you and Mom
forever.”
“Silly girl,” Raymond murmured, eyes brimming with affection.
Though she’d spoken those words, Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted to Karaville as she settled into the car. Unbidden, the image of a rebellious figure surfaced in her mind.
If I were to find a boyfriend, he should be the one worthy of me.
Karaville.
Maureen also saw the emails forwarded by her assistant Betty, all seeking collaborations on new compositions.
Betty said, “One of them is Mr. Dylan Thomas. He wants to purchase it for his daughter, Dorothy Thomas–a renowned ballet dancer who particularly adores your work.”
“He wishes to use one of your pieces as accompaniment. I’ve watched her performances; they’re truly exceptional. Mr. Raymond Thompson is also quite wealthy. I’m certain entrusting the composition to her would be ideal.”
As she spoke, Betty sent Elizabeth’s dance video to Maureen.
“Boss, I’ve sent you the video. See what you think.”
“Alright.”
After receiving it, Maureen clicked play. On the ballet stage, a woman twirled like a regal
swan.
Her pupils contracted involuntarily, fingers tightening around her device.
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At first glance, Maureen felt the woman in the video resembled her mother Noelle in her youth.
As a child, she’d secretly admired Noelle, watching recordings of her dancing on stage again and again.
Noelle had started her career as a ballet dancer.
“BOSS, finished watching?
What do you think?”
Maureen snapped back to reality, deciding it must just be a resemblance.
“Pretty good, but I’ll wait before deciding.”
“Got it, I’ll keep their contact info then.”
“Mmm.”
Maureen hung up.
She couldn’t bring herself to rewatch that video.
Opening it would only flash back to childhood–when she’d told Noelle she wanted to dance, only to be mocked:
“What’s a deaf girl doing dancing?
Can you even hear the beat?
Keep up with the rhythm?
Don’t embarrass me.
”
Though Maureen later performed on stage herself,
winning countless awards,
Noelle never praised her once.