See You Soon Broadway (Broadway Series Book 1)

  See You Soon Broadway

  By: Melissa Baldwin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Melissa Baldwin

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0692508147

  ISBN 13: 978-0692508145

  Acknowledgements:

  To my grandmothers, Mildred and Georgia, and my mother, Wendy: You are true examples of strong, faithful, and powerful women. I dedicate this book to you.

  Chapter 1

  I made it. I’m finally here with the lights, the sounds, and the rush . . . I start spinning around like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. You would think one of the thousands of people on the street would stop and ask me if I was okay . . . or maybe not—after all, this is New York City. In reality, these people couldn’t care less if I was okay. But really, I must look ridiculous spinning around in the middle of Times Square.

  “Maris! Maris!” Awesome, someone knows my name. Maybe I’m famous now. I look around to see who’s calling my name, but I’m alone. Holy crap! I’m alone in Times Square. Where did everyone go?

  “Maris!” Now someone is shaking me, maybe the earth has been taken over by zombies or some nonsense like that. There’s a reason I never watch those kinds of shows; I would have nightmares for days. As it is, when a commercial comes on for a scary movie, I have to close my eyes, cover my ears, and repeat “la, la, la” over and over.

  “Don’t kill me!” I shout and jump up.

  I look around and there I am in the living room of the apartment I share with my best friend, Georgie. I must have fallen asleep on the couch.

  “That must have been one hell of a dream.” She smirks. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “Yes.” I groan. I feel horrible; this is why I don’t take naps. I always wake up groggy and in a bad mood.

  “I have a few lessons this afternoon, and then I have to go to that family dinner with Kyle.” I sit up slowly because if I get up too fast, I’ll get dizzy. I don’t know why that happens, but it does every time I get up too quickly.

  “What are you doing home? I thought you were on shift?” Georgie is a nurse at the hospital and she works crazy hours, so it’s a surprise seeing her home in the middle of the afternoon.

  “I was,” she replies dramatically as she falls back onto our Brady Bunch couch. Our couch is a tacky plaid print that looks like it is out of the 1970s, so that’s why we nicknamed it the Brady Bunch couch.

  “It was really slow and someone needed extra hours, so I left.” She starts picking at her gel manicure like she always does when she’s lying around.

  I start to gather all of my materials for my lessons this afternoon. One of these days, I will get organized. I have a plan to get organized; however, I’m not organized enough to put my plan into action or something like that.

  I have been teaching vocal lessons at Do-Re-Mi Studios for two years. I enjoy my job but my dream has always been to perform on Broadway. Hell, I would settle for off Broadway. Don’t get me wrong, my job is very fulfilling. I have some fantastic students, and I love sharing my passion with others. But to sing on Broadway . . .

  My first student this afternoon is the very adorable and precocious Sadie, a vocal and piano student. Every word she speaks comes out in song. She reminds me of myself at her age.

  “Helloooo, Miss Maris,” she sings when she arrives. She even does a little twirl in the lobby.

  “Helloooo, Sadie,” I reply. And so this begins our lesson.

  Following Sadie’s lesson, I have Mimi’s lesson. Mimi is sixteen and a typical teenager, and she’s not as fun to teach as Sadie because she thinks she knows everything already. The truth is she’s fantastically talented; I’m just afraid her ego will get in the way. I once made a comment about her attitude and her mother called me and told me off. I thought for sure she wouldn’t be coming back to me, but according to Lucy, the owner, I’m the best.

  I never thought I would still be teaching lessons at twenty-six. My plan was always to perform, but unfortunately, sometimes life gets in the way. I really shouldn’t complain; if I had run off to New York years ago, I never would have met Kyle.

  Ahhh . . . yes, Kyle. I guess it’s a good sign that I still get giddy over him after two years. Kyle is that guy—the guy you want to take home to your parents and definitely the guy you want to bring to your high school reunions. He’s successful and attractive, but not so attractive that people would doubt his sincerity.

  Anyway, I really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. The only problem is that he’s established in our lovely suburban city and has no desire to go to New York. Ever. We’ve had a few brief discussions about this, but I think he’s been pretty clear that he doesn’t see NYC in his future. I’ve never pushed the issue because I’m happy . . . really, I am.

  After I finish up with my lessons, I head to my parents’ house for our monthly family dinner. My mom insists that we all come for dinner once a month to keep our family relationships strong, which is totally silly because we all get along fine. My parents have lived in the same house since they got married, and my older sister, Cassie, and her husband, Mark, live nearby.

  “Hey!” I yell when I walk in the door. I take off my boots and do what I always do when I go home: I stand at the front door, get a running start, and try to slide in my socks through the main hall on the wood floor. After I slide a few feet, I wander into the kitchen.

  “What are you guys up to?” I ask. My mom and Cassie are busily looking through some boxes.

  “Hi, hon. Dad was cleaning out the garage and found these boxes,” Mom replies. She continues to empty some junk from a box onto the table.

  “Mom and Dad are finally cleaning out their stuff. I told them that they need to feng shui,” Cassie says softly.

  Cassie just opened her own yoga studio; she’s probably the most calm and mentally sound person I have ever met in my life. I have thought about talking to her about the possibility of me moving to New York, but I’m a little nervous about what she’s going to say.

  “Maris, do you remember this? We used to play restaurant with this old menu.” Cassie holds up a menu that we stole from IHOP in the 80s. We used to play restaurant in Mom’s Tupperware closet for hours.

  “I can’t believe we still have that thing,” I exclaim. Although, I’m not surprised since Mom and Dad never throw anything away.

  “I’m keeping this for my kids,” Cassie adds. Ugh, typical Cassie—she may be calm and patient but she will always be the bossy older sister. She thinks she knows everything just because she’s a whopping three years older than me.

  “Um, why do you get to keep it and you don’t even have kids yet?” I demand. She doesn’t say anything; no doubt she is chanting some kind of yoga stuff in her mind to ease the tension that’s building.

  “You’re right,” she replies calmly. “We should share this once we both have kids, of course.”

  I guess I can’t really argue with her considering she’s definitely closer to having kids than I am.

  I start looking through a box that’s on the floor. It looks like a bunch of old stuff that belonged to my grandmother. Grandma passed away two years ago and my parents got the remainder of her things. I sort through the box of romance novels, crossword puzzles, and National Geographics from thirty years ago. As I’m sorting through the stuff, I find a red leather-bound notebook at the bottom of the box. My curiosity is building as I
run my fingers over the gorgeous worn leather. I open it to the first page and immediately recognize my grandmother’s handwriting.

  The first page is dated March 10, 1948 . . .

  “What’s that?” Cassie asks, staring at the notebook.

  “I’m not sure. It looks like a journal. I think it was Grandma’s.” I hold it up and show them, carefully keeping a tight grip on it. I don’t want Cassie to play the oldest child card and claim it for herself.

  “I’ve never seen that before,” my mom says curiously. “Of course, that isn’t much of a surprise; Mother was a bit of a mystery sometimes.”

  Now I’m totally intrigued. My grandmother was an interesting woman, very educated and well spoken. I was named after her, so I always felt a connection to her because of that. I remember her well because she used to visit us a lot when we were younger, when she wasn’t on one of her trips with her girlfriends. My grandpa passed away when I was really young, so I don’t remember much about him.

  The doorbell interrupts my thoughts. My excitement starts to build, as I know that must be Kyle.

  “I’ll get it!” both Cassie and I yell and make a run for the door.

  We both slide on the wood floor as we race for the door. Sure enough, it’s Kyle waiting politely at the door with a bottle of wine in hand. He always brings something to dinner; he says his mother always taught him never to show up at a dinner party empty-handed.

  “Hello, Kyle, it’s wonderful to see you,” Cassie says warmly.

  “Same to you, Cassie,” he says politely. He gives me a big smile and I melt. I never really understood that term “melt.” What does that even mean?

  I give him a big hug and grab his hand as we head back to the kitchen. Kyle could possibly be the best boyfriend ever, well, except for that one teeny-tiny difference of opinion when it comes to moving.

  After dinner (and too much wine), my parents start talking. I can tell by the way they had their heads together throughout the night that they were gearing up for something big.

  “We have some exciting news for you girls,” Dad says as he reaches for Mom’s hand.

  I knew it! My mind starts to wander; this could be really exciting, unless of course they tell us they are expecting a baby. I start to imagine Mom being pregnant at the same time as Cassie. They would have to have a joint baby shower and I would have to throw it. My throat starts to tighten and my palms start sweating. I’m not even sure why this random thought popped into my head.

  “Since I’m officially retiring in June, your mother and I have decided to sell the house,” he exclaims excitedly.

  What did he say? Sell our house? This is insane. This is the house I grew up in, the house where I spent my childhood.

  “No!” I yell louder than I intended. “You can’t!”

  “Maris, calm down,” Mom says calmly. “This really is exciting news. We’re looking at condos over on the coast. Remember when we used to spend summers there? Those were some wonderful trips.”

  “The coast? But that’s miles away!”

  Cassie hasn’t said a word, which could mean two things: either she’s in shock or she already knew about this.

  “Cassie, what do you think? Please tell me that you aren’t okay with this?” I can already tell by her body language that she’s already at peace with this news. I don’t doubt that she’s already had time to meditate or yoga her way through it.

  “I agree this news isn’t the best, but I feel that it’s a great idea for Mom and Dad to retire to the ocean,” she says thoughtfully. “Congratulations, you two!” She and Mark get up to give our parents hugs. Kyle looks at me and gives me a concerned smile.

  “You okay?” he whispers. I don’t really know what I am. I mean, I haven’t lived in this house in years but it was always nice to know that it was here if I ever needed to come home.

  “I think so,” I reply as he puts his arm around me. “Just a little surprised; although, there could be worse news.” I don’t tell him anything about my imagining Mom and Cassie’s joint baby shower. I decide I need to apologize for my childish outburst.

  “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” I say. “You guys have worked toward this for years so . . . um, congratulations.”

  Ugh! That didn’t sound convincing at all. I must be the worst daughter ever. My parents don’t seem to notice my awkward reaction. Somehow about a gazillion photos of beachfront condos have magically appeared. Everyone seems to be very interested in looking at them except for me. I mindlessly glance at each photo and pass them to Kyle who is sitting to my left. How is this happening so fast? I look around at the slightly worn wallpaper and the slippery wood floors. I can’t believe I will have to say good-bye to my childhood home. Do I have some sort of weird attachment issues that have never been diagnosed?

  I’m a little surprised at the number of photos they have; it seems like this has been in the works for a while.

  “So, when did you guys decide to do this?” I ask innocently. Cassie looks up from the photo she’s holding. I can tell by her expression that she’s silently trying to cleanse my aura, or maybe she’s just mentally judging me. Thankfully, my parents are oblivious to our silent communication.

  “Believe it or not, we have talked about this for years,” my dad replies. “After you girls moved out, we realized that we’d love to downsize and enjoy our retirement. No more lawn to mow or weeds to pull.”

  Who is this man and what has he done with my father? My father loved spending hours on the lawn every weekend.

  “Oh, and don’t you girls forget that you both have boxes of your things in the attic.”

  Ah yes, how could I forget about all my boxes? I can’t believe my childhood memories will soon be reduced to a few boxes of things. All of this change is giving me anxiety, and there’s only one thing for me to do when this happens . . . sing. I’ve been doing this for a while. There’s a little park just around the corner from my apartment. When I want to just let go and relax, I go and sing. I sing everything from Broadway show tunes to gangster rap. Yes, really!

  At the end of the night, I’m pretty quiet as Kyle and I walk out together.

  “You want to talk? I can come over or you can come to my place?” he asks sympathetically.

  I would love to stay up all night talking to him, but I don’t know what to think or say. With my parents moving farther away, this is all the more reason for me to consider moving also. I don’t quite know how to bring up the New York issue again, but I know I need to. However, tonight I really just want to get to that park.

  “I would love to but I’m kind of tired. How about lunch tomorrow?” I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “You sure?” he asks. I can tell he knows what I’m up to. “You want to go to the park, don’t you?”

  Busted.

  Kyle has joined me in the park a few times. For the longest time I never told anyone, but one night after Kyle dropped me off, I left my phone in his car and when he came back to bring it to me, he saw me sneak around the corner. I had no choice but to reveal my deep dark secret. Not that it’s dark or even a secret really. Plenty of strangers have stopped to listen to me. Thankfully, I’m not afraid to sing in front of people. One night, a couple asked why I didn’t have a jar out for tips. Maybe I should? I could probably make some pretty decent cash.

  “I was thinking about it,” I say nonchalantly. He totally knows that I have every intention of going to the park.

  “I can come and sit with you if you want.” See, best boyfriend ever. I must be crazy to consider moving away from him. I know that long-distance relationships usually don’t work. Why would I even risk losing him?

  “Thanks. You’re the best, but I think I need to be alone tonight.” I do my best not to make him feel bad, and thankfully he understands.

  When I get home, I park my car in front of my apartment and leisurely walk around the corner. I sit down on the bench and close my eyes. When I open my eyes, I start to belt out “For Good” from Wicked. I then g
o through a medley of songs from Les Mis, Annie, and Hairspray.

  I immediately start to feel better. Cassie can have all her downward dogs and chair poses; thankfully, I have my singing. I reach into my bag to grab my phone when my hand touches something. It’s the journal I found earlier. I totally forgot about it after my parents’ big announcement. My curiosity takes control, and I hurry home so I can read it.

  Chapter 2

  “I can’t believe they’re selling their house. I always thought they would be there forever,” Georgie says after I tell her about my parents. I think she’s even more shocked than I was. I probably should have just waited until the next day to tell her.

  “But, it’s the end of an era!” she exclaims. She wants to sit there and talk about every detail of their move, and I just want to go lie down and read my grandmother’s journal. It’s as if it’s burning a hole in my bag. I haven’t been this excited to read since the fourth Twilight book was released.