The Apartment by Debbie Macomber Page B

schedule that it was enjoyable. Nothing he’d bring his friends to, exactly. The experience was…He searched for the right word. Pleasurably different, he decided.
    During the second half of the performance, Sean found himself relaxing, blocking out the world and savoring the music. With his eyes shut, the immediacy of the music took him by surprise. It was as if he were in a small raft heaved about a storm-tossed sea. He gripped the edges of his seat, amazed at the amount of emotion he felt in the music. It swelled and surged like nothing he’d ever known.
    When the orchestra finished, he rushed to his feet and applauded with all his might. Soon others were standing, too, including the woman next to him. She, too, had apparently found the same richness as he, because she was dabbing her eyes with a lace-edged hankie.
    â€œIt was wonderful, wasn’t it?” she asked above the din.
    â€œMagnificent!”
    â€œThen you should let your young lady know.”
    He hesitated.
    â€œGo on, tell her,” she urged. “She deserves to know how much you enjoyed her music.”
    Sean decided she was right. When the music hall started to empty, he headed for the stage. The older woman was directly behind him.
    Hilary’s gaze widened with delight when she saw him. “Sean,” she said, easing her way between other symphony members to get to him. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “You came…you came.”
    â€œYou were fabulous,” he said, kissing her cheek. He longed to hold her against him and tell her everything he’d experienced through the music, but he wasn’t sure he could put it into words.
    â€œI’d like you to meet my mother,” Hilary said, reaching for his hand, her fingers closing tightly over his.
    He’d asked for this, coming onto the stage, but now was as good a time as any, Sean decided. The woman he’d talked to earlier had given him a good deal of insight into a mother’s heart. For the first time since Hilary had mentioned her mother, he was looking forward to meeting her.
    â€œSean,” Hilary said, slipping her arm around his waist, “this is my mother, Louise Wadsworth. Mom, this is Sean…the neighbor I was telling you about.”
    Sean felt as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. Louise Wadsworth was the woman who’d sat in the seat next to his own.

CHAPTER TEN
    â€œW e’ve already met,” Sean replied stiffly. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Wadsworth?” He’d tensed at her side, and Hilary wasn’t sure she understood why.
    â€œIndeed we have,” her mother continued, smiling softly at Hilary. “You’ve helped solve a complex puzzle for me, young man. I was beginning to have some serious questions about my daughter.”
    â€œAbout what, Mom?”
    â€œThe scent of a man’s aftershave was my first clue something wasn’t right at the apartment. Then I found the beer in the refrigerator.”
    â€œI left the beer,” Sean muttered beneath his breath, and his tone told her he was furious with himself.
    â€œBut the real clincher was turning on the radio and finding some man singing in a pleasant twang about being a rodeo clown. I know my daughter, and her tastes in music don’t extend to country and western.”
    Sean looked as if he were a mouse with his tail caught in a trap.
    â€œI think it might be an excellent idea if we all adjourned to dinner. I’ve made reservations at the Ritz.”
    â€œI think you two should go on without me,” Sean said, excusing himself.
    â€œNonsense,” Louise countered. “I spilled my heart out to you, young man, so if you’re feeling foolish, you shouldn’t. Our conversation told me far more about you than ten arguments with Hilary.”
    â€œConversation?” Hilary demanded. “What went on out there?”
    â€œTell me, sweetheart,” her mother asked, grinning