Elisabeth Rose - romance author

Having been unceremoniously dumped by her latest boyfriend, professional violinist Grace Richmond decides she must be the problem - too easygoing to the point of bland, casual to the point of sloppy. A doormat. Time for change. Friend Kirsty suggests she swap her flowing eclectic clothing for power dressing, pin up her wayward curls, act tough. New Grace is born. Grace, however, discovers there is a fine line between assertive and obnoxious. Her new persona leads to all sorts of problems not the least of which is her relationship with the very attractive new neighbor.

All recently divorced, successful, sci-fi writer Harry Birmingham wants is a quiet life in suburbia shared with eight year old William and Woof, the dog. Harry discovers two things very swiftly - his new home is next door to a practising musician and Woof howls when he hears a violin. Intent on peaceful cohabitation, Harry apologizes but is alarmed to meet a woman frighteningly reminiscent of his ex-wife - aggressive, prickly and downright rude. How can a person so attractive be so unfriendly? Career women leave Harry cold and Grace is a prime example.

Grace just can’t get the hang of this assertiveness stuff. All she seems to do is upset people and the handsome new neighbor, with his gorgeous dog and sweet little boy, doesn’t seem to like her at all.

For the life of him Harry can’t understand why everyone else, including Woof and William, adores Grace. Is he missing something?

Going about annoying and irritating people was a very upsetting way to live life. Grace’s legs felt wobbly on the way home. Delayed shock, she decided. Harry and Woof were strolling along half a block ahead. Harry was whistling. They stopped so that Woof could sniff a lamppost and Grace caught up to them. She kept walking.

Woof bounded across to her, tail wagging frantically but Harry snapped his fingers and said, ‘Heel,’ so sharply Woof skidded to a halt.

‘Sorry,’ said Harry tersely. ‘I know you don’t like dogs. Unfortunately he seems to like you.’

Grace gave him a tight little smile and strode on. What an impression she was making! A dog-hating, argumentative, nit-picking, complaining, unfriendly, unneighborly pain in the bum. And he seemed such a nice man. With such a gorgeous dog. She stopped suddenly and turned to face Harry. Old Grace made a brief resurgence.

‘Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?’ she asked. He looked as surprised as she was to have blurted out the invitation. ‘I’m doing moussaka.’

‘I’m afraid I’m busy,’ he said after a moment’s pause.

Grace nodded. Not surprising given her antics in his presence. She began to walk again and he caught her up.

‘I lecture on Thursday evenings,’ he said.

‘I see.’ Grace nodded again. Good enough excuse. Could be true. Disappointing though, surprisingly so.

‘You’ve been practising a lot lately,’ commented Harry.

‘Does it bother you?’ Was he about to complain about her when his dog made that unholy row?

‘It has great penetration power,’ he said.

‘I’m not going to stop practising, you know. It’s my profession.’

‘I know.’

They walked in silence until Harry said, ‘I work in a room on the far side and you’re not a beginner, thank heavens. That would be hard to take.’

‘I hear Woof,’ she said and when he didn’t comment she added, ‘I’m practising for an audition. To move up to second desk. I’m fourth desk at the moment.’

‘I could never understand that desking thing. Don’t you all play the same music?’

‘Yes but ranking is important,’ said Grace. ‘It’s a matter of pride and status. The closer to the front you sit the more respect you have from the other players.’

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. ‘I see.’

‘A lot of people will be trying out for that position. I have to work really hard.’

‘You sound very good to me but then what do I know?’ said Harry and laughed.

‘Exactly,’ said Grace, annoyed by his offhand reaction and the way he obliquely complained about her music and the way he made her seem like Edward. She even sounded like Edward. ‘I am a good player and I mean to get that second desk chair.’

‘I wish you luck,’ he said mildly.

‘Luck has nothing to do with it,’ said Grace. ‘It’s hard work and talent that get you where you want to go in life. No good sitting about waiting for the grass to grow.’ She’d got that from Jeremy. He said it all the time.

They walked on slowly. Harry said, ‘I thought if I keep Woof indoors when you practise we might be OK. Seems to be working.’

Grace said, ‘Not really but I ignore him when he starts. Although we’ve finished with that orchestral piece he really hated. Thank goodness,’ she added.

If Harry was offended or upset by her comment about Woof he didn’t show it. ‘Don’t like it?’ he asked.

‘We all hate it with a passion. It’s rubbish and the man’s such a poseur. He wrote a piece for violin which is absolutely ghastly.’ Old Grace cowered while New Grace gave vent to feelings usually only shared with Eric, and mildly at that. Her general attitude had always been just play it and put up with it and let the others complain. Not any more.

‘What is it?’

‘“Sea Dreaming” by Roger Handley.’ She laughed. ‘Eric calls it “Sea Drowning.”’

‘I know Roger,’ said Harry calmly.

Grace closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She might have known that would happen. But she was entitled to her opinion and just because Harry knew the composer didn’t mean she should change her mind. He hadn’t had to play the thing or listen to it. Woof appreciated what she meant.

‘Really?’ she said.

‘Really,’ he said. ‘Went to school with him.’

Woof shoved his nose into her hand and she gave him a surreptitious little pat. He liked her even if Harry didn’t.

‘He was a real pain in the neck then, too,’ Harry said.

Grace glanced across at him quickly but he didn’t look at her, just kept walking with his shopping bag swinging from his hand and his face an impassive mask, in profile.

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