As he entered the ballroom, he paused for just a moment, taking in the scene. Round tables covered in white silk tablecloths filled the space, each one decorated with elaborate centerpieces. The lighting was dim and romantic, casting everything in a golden glow. On the far side of the room, a small stage had been set up with a music stand and a hired saxophonist already playing soft jazz-classical lines that most guests wouldn’t even notice.
But Mateo noticed. He always noticed. Music had been his whole world once. When he was a little boy growing up in a small apartment with his mother and two younger brothers, the old alto saxophone in their living room had been his escape. It didn’t matter that the instrument was secondhand and slightly worn, or that they could barely afford lessons. When Mateo put that horn to his lips, everything else disappeared.
The cramped apartment, the bills his mother worried about, the sounds of the city outside their window—all of it faded away. There was only the music. He’d been good, too. Not just good, exceptional. His teachers had told his mother that Mateo had a rare gift, that with proper training, he could have a real future as a concert saxophonist. They’d helped him apply for scholarships, and when he was eighteen, Mateo had been accepted to the prestigious Riverside Conservatory of Music.
It had felt like a dream come true. College had been the happiest time of his life. He’d spent hours every day practicing, his fingers flying over the keys of the saxophone, learning works by Glazunov, Ibert, Debussy, and transcriptions of concert repertoire that demanded both classical precision and breath control. His professors had praised his technical skill and emotional depth.
He’d performed in student recitals, his heart racing with excitement and fear. After each performance, he’d felt truly alive in a way that nothing else could match. But dreams cost money, and scholarships only covered so much. By his third year, the financial pressure had become unbearable. His mother was working two jobs, but still struggling. His brothers needed help with their own school expenses.
Mateo had taken out student loans, but they weren’t enough. He’d started working part-time jobs, fitting in shifts between practice sessions and classes. Sleep became a luxury he couldn’t afford. Then his mother got sick. Nothing life-threatening, but enough that she couldn’t work for several months. Mateo had to make a choice. He could continue pursuing his degree while his family struggled, or he could step up and help.
Really, it wasn’t a choice at all. He’d withdrawn from the conservatory just one year shy of graduating. The student loans still had to be paid back, degree or not. He’d found work at the Grand View estate, where the pay was decent and the tips could be good if you served the right tables. He’d told himself it was temporary, just until he got his family back on solid ground, just until he saved up enough to return and finish his degree.