So proud to introduce you to my newest novel
American Nightingale
Widowed and penniless, Bella Gale Smith and her young daughter face a bleak future in 1865 New York City. Her only relative? Estranged brother-in-law and bandleader Zach Smith, “the black sheep” of his family--a rebel in every way. Does she dare follow him to the famed Catskill Mountain House to forge a new future?
Excerpts from American Nightingale
American Nightingale --overview
American Nightingale --overview
American Nightingale --overview
A sweeping saga of passions and new ambitions at the beginnings of the Gilded Age in old New York.
Widowed and penniless, Bella Gale Smith and her young daughter face a bleak future in 1865 New York City, until Zach Smith knocks on her door. She knows her late-husband’s estranged stepbrother as “the black sheep” of his family.
The handso
A sweeping saga of passions and new ambitions at the beginnings of the Gilded Age in old New York.
Widowed and penniless, Bella Gale Smith and her young daughter face a bleak future in 1865 New York City, until Zach Smith knocks on her door. She knows her late-husband’s estranged stepbrother as “the black sheep” of his family.
The handsome bandleader hoped to visit his younger brother before joining his former musicians in Smith’s Cornet Band, a favorite of New York society before the war. Battle-weary from fighting on the Confederate side, Zach is certainly not looking to take on his brother’s family.
But Bella and her daughter tag along, buying a ticket on a steamboat north to the opulent Catskill Mountain House, where his band is booked for the summer season.
Determined to keep out of Zach’s way, Bella is hired as a hotel maid, struggling to care for her daughter despite her grueling schedule and a tyrannical boss. The hotel manager, meanwhile, pressures Zach to update the band’s image and hire a female singer in the style of the popular Swedish Nightingale.
It’s only when Zach overhears Bella singing a lullaby to her daughter that he realizes her clear soprano voice and good looks could be the answer to both their problems.
Bella's First Day on the Job
American Nightingale --overview
American Nightingale --overview
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed. People began pushing back their chairs, taking a last bite or gulp, and bolting up from the table.
“All right, people,” bellowed the voice of Mr. Ruckler, who lumbered heavily in from the dining room. Everyone stood at attention. Everyone, that is, except for Amanda, who was calmly eating her p
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed. People began pushing back their chairs, taking a last bite or gulp, and bolting up from the table.
“All right, people,” bellowed the voice of Mr. Ruckler, who lumbered heavily in from the dining room. Everyone stood at attention. Everyone, that is, except for Amanda, who was calmly eating her pancakes.
Mr. Ruckler stopped in mid step. He pointed at Amanda. “Who is that?” he bellowed.
Bella hastily stood up. “My daughter, Mr. Ruckler. I’m Mrs. Smith, remember? I brought her to breakfast. I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to.”
For a moment, Mr. Ruckler simply stared at Amanda, who continued eating, completely oblivious to the commotion she had set off. “Mama?” she asked. “May I have some more ‘lasses?”
Bella hurriedly reached for the pitcher, while Mr. Ruckler’s features settled into a deep frown. “Children are not permitted in the kitchens. The cook will fix a tray for her from now on.”
“Yes, sir.” Bella put the pitcher down.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“No, sir.”
He stared at her for another long second, then took out a large, black book from under his arm and opened it flat on the table. “Now, here’s the day’s agenda.” He began to tick off how many rooms were booked, how many new rooms needed to be readied for arriving guests, how many breakfasts, lunches and dinners would be served, and how many requests for picnic baskets. Special events were planned, including a formal afternoon tea, a croquette party, and an after-dinner concert.
As people received their assignments, they dispersed quickly to their duties. The kitchen bustled with activity.
“Mrs. Smith!” Mr. Ruckler bellowed. He crooked his finger at her. “Come over here. You will be working with Katie, here, learning to do up the rooms. You’ll help with the breakfast trays first, go with Katie to do the rooms, then return to help with the picnic baskets. You’ll help set the tables for the first and second dinner seatings. Katie will supervise your work, show you the ropes, and generally train you.”
Bella nodded. She smiled at the young blonde woman who stood very close to Mr. Ruckler. She returned Bella’s smile with a haughty nod of her head.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get that child out of here and start on those breakfast trays.” Mr. Ruckler leaned forward. “Fifteen minutes. Understood?”
Bella swallowed. “Understood, sir.” As Mr. Ruckler turned back to confer with Katie, she dashed over to Amanda and whisked off the napkin from around her neck.
“Mama! I’m not finished.”
“I’ll bring you something else in a bit, darling.” Bella pulled back Amanda’s chair and lifted her out. “But believe me, you are finished.”
Once out the kitchen door, Bella had an idea. She turned in the direction of the hotel’s small back porch and through the smaller set of double doors that led to the back of the grand staircase. Bella slipped up the stairs carrying Amanda. She huffed and puffed up one, then two, and finally the third flight of stairs that led to the Halley’s room. Perhaps Nancy Halley would agree to take Amanda for at least a few hours. Please, God, Bella breathed. Please let her be up.
But when she knocked on the door of the room she had remembered from last night, there was no answer. Desperate, she walked on to the last room, which was Zach’s. She knocked softly on the door, then a bit louder. “Zach! Zach, it’s me, Bella.”
There was no answer. Bella’s shoulders sagged, and she knelt down to release Amanda. Dear God, what would she do?
Slowly, this time holding Amanda’s hand, Bella descended the staircase. She stopped at the front desk. The dark-haired man looked up. “Yes?” Then he looked at her strangely. “What’s the problem?” he said in a colder voice.
“I was looking for Mrs. John Halley,” Bella said. Suddenly, she was conscious of the clerk’s gaze, and realized that she was wearing a maid’s uniform. “I wondered if you knew if she had gone out.”
“I believe Mrs. Halley came down early this morning. I cannot say where she went. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Yes, but first I need to leave Mrs. Halley a note. May I borrow some paper and ink?”
The desk clerk looked at her and shook his head. “Can you write?”
“Yes, I can certainly write,” Bella snapped back.
He nodded toward the salon. “Paper and ink at the desk. In there. You can leave the note with me. When she returns, I’ll deliver it.”
Bella hastily wrote a note for both Zach and Nancy, leaving both with the desk.
Then she rushed back to her own room.
“Amanda,” she said with a heavy heart, “I’m going to have to leave you alone for a little while. I’ll come back soon, and soon Uncle Zach or Mrs. Halley will be able to take you with them. But for now ...”
Amanda’s face began to puff up with anger and tears. “I don’t want to stay here. I hate it here! I want more pancakes!”
“Please, please be good now. For my sake.” Bella could feel the hot tears springing to her own eyes. “I’ll come back in a little while. Please, darling. Please ...”
But Amanda would not stop crying. “I hate you! I hate you!”
Bella glanced at the clock in desperation. She was out of time. “I’ll come back for you soon. I promise.” The words were more for herself than for Amanda, who seemed not to hear her. Closing the door behind her, then locking it was the hardest thing Bella ever had to do, as Amanda’s cries of “I hate you” rang in her ears.
She hated herself for bringing them here. Hated Daniel for leaving her with no other means to care for her daughter. Hated Mr. Ruckler for being so awful. And for the first time in her life, she hated the Mountain House..
Learning the Fifth Avenue Waltz
American Nightingale --overview
Learning the Fifth Avenue Waltz
“Let me explain why I called a rehearsal, Bella,” Zach Smith said, reverting to his usual businesslike demeanor. “I wrote a new waltz. The Fifth Avenue Waltz, I call it. We’ve just started in learning the introduction. Now, there are no words. But I had an idea for some new dance steps to go with it. And I was thinking that you and Paul B
“Let me explain why I called a rehearsal, Bella,” Zach Smith said, reverting to his usual businesslike demeanor. “I wrote a new waltz. The Fifth Avenue Waltz, I call it. We’ve just started in learning the introduction. Now, there are no words. But I had an idea for some new dance steps to go with it. And I was thinking that you and Paul Bruner could demonstrate the dance to the audience on the first two stanzas. It would be a novelty, something fun for one of the afternoon tea dances.”
Bella looked amused.
“You do know how to waltz, don’t you?” Zach asked.
“Oh, I think I can remember how,” she teased. “Let’s see, one, two, three, one, two, three.” She twirled and bowed.
“Good. Paul, come over here. Now, you start with a regular waltz step, but on the fourth turn, the music pauses on the second and third beat. That’s when you twirl Bella under your arm.”
Paul’s eyebrows rose so high, he looked quite comical. “Twirl her? Under my arm?” he croaked. “I don’t know, Zach.”
“Come on, it’s not hard.” Zach coaxed Paul as if he were a child. “Try it.”
John took up his fiddle and played the first six bars of the tune, demonstrating the pause and where the music came back in. Paul gamely held Bella and waltzed her awkwardly around the room but couldn’t quite get the hang of the twirling business.
Zach grimaced and strode toward them. “Paul, you have to twirl Bella like this.” He took her hand and raised it high, twirling her with a firm hand. “And Bella, when the music comes in again, you take one step, a little hop and then kick up your right heel behind you. It’s a kind of a flippant, flirtatious kick. At the same time, you look away from your partner. As if you’re being superior.”
Bella thought about it, then quickly twirled and did the little kick, with an insouciant toss of her head.
“That’s just what I wanted,” Zach said, nodding in appreciation. “Perfect.”
Paul rolled his eyes and took a deep sigh. “Here’s goes nothing.”
John started to play the beginning of the waltz. Paul wore a painful expression as he whirled Bella through the motions. He forgot to stop on the pause, then came back in a step too late, throwing off Bella’s kick.
The other musicians were snickering among themselves, trying hard not to laugh out loud.
“Try it again!” Zach called patiently.
Bella felt sorry for Paul. He gripped her hand awkwardly, and she could feel him stiffen as the boys’ laughter reached their ears.
“Just relax,” she whispered to him. But her words were in vain. He shuffled and stiffly ushered her through the steps.
“It’s supposed to look like you’re enjoying the dance, Paul," Zach said.
Paul had had enough.
“Gosh darn it, Zach. I’m willing to try anything once. But I can’t do this with them all laughing at me. Make ‘em stop, will ya?”
Zach looked like he might call for quiet, but instead, he burst out laughing himself. “You’re a great French horn player, Paul, but you’re no dancer. Come on back up here.” He turned to the other musicians, who were still laughing. “All right. Who’s next up to try? Can’t spare Billy, but Billy can’t dance. What about you, Jeremy?”
The skinny flute and piccolo player just shook his head. “Just call me Two Left Feet.”
“Don’t look at me,” cried Peter, ducking down behind the piano.
“What about you, Zach?” Billy Parisher cried. “You been dancin’ all over our room for the last week, figuring out them steps. How ‘bout you dance with her?”
“And I can play the cornet part on the French horn,” Paul chimed in.
“Guess you’re the only one left, partner,” John said, tucking his violin under his chin. “Ready when you are.”
Zach nodded and stepped down to join Bella. They joined hands. Zach pulled her closer to him, holding her firmly around her waist. “Just follow my lead. Four bars, twirl, hop and kick, then repeat, then four bars of whirling to the left, then to the right. OK?”
“Ready when you are,” Bella replied.
“Give me the first sixteen bars at half tempo, John.”
The music started. Bella gave her full attention to Zach. They began to move slowly through the various sections of the dance. It was not a particularly difficult dance and Bella soon had it down perfectly.
In the last few weeks of singing with the band, she had come to appreciate Zach’s absolute command of everything musical. Nothing escaped his ear. When he played, he was one with his cornet. One with the music. So it was not surprising that he would be the same way as a dancer. He didn’t just move around the floor to the music, as Paul had done. He was attuned to the music, as if it flowed out from inside him.
What surprised her was how she could follow him so effortlessly. She hadn’t danced in years. But somehow her feet seemed to know what he wanted her to do, without more than a word and a movement of his hand. They were a good match, she thought. She was only a few inches shorter than him. When they whirled, Bella’s feet scarcely touched the dance floor. She felt as if they were dancing on a cloud of music. It was magical.
As the music speeded up to full tempo, Bella forgot everything else and entered the spirit of the dance. She ended with the little backward kick and a toss of her head.
Everyone applauded. Zach whirled her away from him, and she curtsied deeply. Bella felt almost giddy. “You are full of surprises!” she told Zach. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”
“Here and there,” Zach answered dryly. He turned to the musicians. “All right, now. Everybody got their music? Let’s work on this for an hour, then call it a day. We can finish up at tomorrow’s regular rehearsal.”
Bella felt suddenly awkward and somehow deflated. He hadn’t said a word about her own dancing or whether she had performed it the way he had wanted. She started to walk away, but Zach called her back.
“Where are you going?”
Bella turned. “I thought you were finished with me.”
“You’d deny me the pleasure of another dance?”