Andrea met Nigel when his family moved next door to hers in the spring of her junior year in high school. He played lead guitar in a four-man college band that practiced in Nigel’s garage.
She asked if they wanted a female singer.
“That’s not our concept, but come jam with us on Saturday.”
Andrea went to Nigel’s garage Saturday afternoon. The band was playing oldies.
“Do you know ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings?’ The song about being a hero?” Andrea asked.
Nigel nodded, and the keyboardist began playing.
Andrea’s voice took flight like a majestic eagle.
Nigel grinned. “You sing like a champagne glass. Clear and classy.”
She blushed. “Thanks.”
Andrea’s parents acknowledged her talent but discouraged her from pursuing a singing career. “Finish school. Get a real job,” they said.
“I will.”
Andrea took a job at Pop Frazier’s Hardware Store. She worked all summer, and when school resumed, she worked Saturdays. Frazier, a retired carpenter, appreciated Amanda’s enthusiasm. He taught her tricks of the trade and paid her well. When the store wasn’t busy, he enjoyed her singing as she stocked shelves.
At Thanksgiving, Andrea surprised her parents. “I want to attend trade school in Lewistonville for carpentry. Carpenters make good money.” Her parents beamed.
She continued working at Frazier’s store and saved her earnings.
The week of high school graduation, she told Frazier of her trade school plans for the fall. He hugged and congratulated her and paid her a bonus. She kept the job until late August.
A few days later, she packed two suitcases and a footlocker. When her parents went to work, she called a cab and left home. Her note said she was heading to Lewistonville.
She had lied.
Andrea took a train to Barkston, 150 miles north of Lewistonville, rented a small apartment, and looked for work. She impressed a local carpenter with the knowledge and skill gained from Pop Frazier. The craftsman hired her as his assistant.
She found a weekend waitress job at Ben's Place, a jazz supper club downtown. Using her smartphone, she recorded the setlist that Frances, the vocalist, performed. Andrea practiced at home every night.
A month later, while setting the club’s tables, Andrea overheard Ben telling the bartender about Frances.
“Her appendix ruptured. She’ll be out for six weeks. It’s Friday night, first of the month. Everybody in town has money to spend. We can’t afford to cancel shows and miss out,” Ben said.
The bartender nodded.
“Who can we call? No decent singer is available now, and we open in two hours.”
“I can sing, Ben.”
“Right. So can I, Andrea.”
“I'm serious. I know all the songs.”
Ben went to the piano, began playing the setlist, and Andrea sang. He played three more selections, then the finale, “The Wind Beneath My Wings.”
Andrea’s voice soared. Ben shook his head.
“Go home. Get dressed for your new job.”