Chapter 36

Sharron had a years-worth of vacation owing and she didn’t need much talking to Carol before she was back to me to get the different contact details. Being known sometimes has its advantages and, within a week, she had been to our doctor, seen a specialist, and was given a date for the operation. Jordan was happy to let her take the time off and then stay in the clinic for a few weeks to recuperate.

That Christmas wasn’t as bad as the last one, but it still gave us the impetus to look at more albums. While she was sitting at the desk, Sharron wrote the lyrics to another dozen folkish songs and I took them over to write the music.

In January we got everyone in the rehearsal room to get them perfected, and, at the end of January, we recorded “Snowden – Base Camp” over a period of just three days.

During this we had the others from the school with us a lot of the time. They also looked on from the control room as we laid down most of our tracks. Having two of their number involved in the group, as well as their piano teacher on the concert grand, made it a good learning tool that they were sure to remember. What they would remember was singing as a ten-voice choir on two tracks. One. “A Child on a long Climb,” was picked up by radio stations across the country. Every one of our kids now had trust funds with a guaranteed income.

In February, the spotlight turned to Abigail. She had worked with Pet and Anton over the break and walked in with twelve songs already scored. They were similar, in sound, to the first album, but the content followed the theme of the joys of motherhood. That one didn’t take long to record as a basis but took a couple of weeks to add all the extra tracks.

When it was released. ”Abigail –Love and Birth" was an album hit. The standout song, though, was full of tension and despair. “Fatherless Child” was an instant hit, dealing with the problems of a girl in trouble. I can’t say that it was to my liking, but Anton had a knack of finding a niche in the market, and it was a totally immersive song to listen to.

My chance came around after all that activity.

In between the new season of the veteran shows, I had worked with Sharron to come up with another “Egg and Chips” album.
My own album was totally minimalist, just me and the piano. The songs were taken from Sharron’s poetry, the tunes were mine and the feeling was atmospheric once we had it recorded. It didn’t need any additional tracks and was released just three weeks after being recorded. With these songs I could hold my own as a solo singer on the vet-show circuit.

In May, we hit the road again as the Sisters, playing twenty concerts to huge crowds. We could now do solos from me or Abigail, trios, quartets, or the whole band. There were shows, out in the mountain areas, when Josie and I would belt out one of the “Snowden” numbers to an appreciative crowd. That tour was, sad to say, the last big one we would all do together.

Abigail was pressured to go into a studio with a big orchestra and songs from well-known lyricists. The money was enough for her to take the gamble and leave Allan’s management. We were all sad to see her go and gave her a big party after her last show with us. Now she was part of the establishment, her next album won her a Grammy. It pays to be with the in-crowd.

We left the touring to go back to square one and work out our priorities. We discovered that we were all over the hype and bustle. All of us were happy to do other things.

Allan had organized three piano concerts for me the next year, as well as short tour with Joyce to play the Rodrigo with South American orchestras. Emily also had three piano concerts, with Pet being given four violin concerts, all in Europe. We all spent time with the vet-tour but would be staying pretty much out of the limelight.

When Ali turned seven, she gave us a mini concert on her latest piano, almost the size of a true baby grand. I sat there with Veronica trying to squeeze my arm off on one side, and Josie doing the same on the other. We were certainly three proud women that day. The highlight was when she moved to one side and Tabitha joined her to play a couple of four-handers. Make it five proud women. It became about twenty proud parents when all the other children gathered around the piano and they sang a couple of our “Snowden” songs, including “A Child on a long Climb”. That one left many of the other mothers in tears.

We had a quiet end to the year. It was a welcome break from playing. Jordan and I left Josie and Sharron in charge, and we went south, to warmer Florida, where we joined my parents for Christmas, and then some! I couldn’t truly rest, though. Two months lazing on the beaches, walking the boardwalks, and eating ice-cream had my mind filling with musical images. Ali and I would sit on the beach humming tunes to each other while we both added words.

When we arrived back at the farm, we had the basis of a “Sanders Family” album, much to Josie’s surprise. This needed Josie to be pulled into, and she took to it like a duck to water. It only took a couple of weeks, and we were in the studio with Tony and his new assistant, Brandon. Sharron told me that Brandon was a former surfer so we asked Tony to put him in charge and mix us the way he would like to hear us.

We pulled Janet in to play drums, Emily on a sixties Farfisa organ and Joyce on bass. “Down on the Sand” was pure sixties surfer pop, from go to whoa. It should never have done well but, once again, we had tapped a new audience. I took on a twangy Fender with reverb, Josie had a nice Rickenbacker and Ali was a star on piano. This album hit the shops in California, and we immediately had offers to go and play there.

We gave Allan some guidelines and he organized some shows where we opened for other established bands. We played up and down the West Coast for much of the summer, Ali using an electric piano. During that time, Pet told us that she and Anton had been offered a lot of money to song-write for Abigail and other singers. That left those of us on stage as the last of the Pixies.

Donna was now a fully accredited specialist, dealing with older children and teens. Jack had become a sought-after surgeon. Pet and Anton now worked in the Big Apple with Abigail. Then, at the end of that surfing summer, Tony and Josie announced that Tony had been made an offer to produce in Los Angeles that was far too big to knock back.

Ali’s eighth birthday was bitter-sweet. The Prentices would be leaving a couple of days later. We were told that Brandon was up to speed so would be moving into the stable with his partner a week later. He had already produced albums for several other bands, so the future of the Stable Studio was secure. Ali and Tabitha put together a musical tribute to their friends, Georgina, and Martyn. As she was playing the piano, Alicia looked straight at me when she sang the line. “You’ll always be my brother and sister.”

When everyone else had gone, I took Ali aside and then called Josie on her mobile, asking her to meet us in the rehearsal room. Ali was looking as if she had done something wrong, so, after Josie had joined us, I closed the door. The first thing I said was, “Alicia, darling. You’re not in any trouble. Now, please tell me why you sang about Marty and Georgie as your brother and sister. It was more than just as friends, wasn’t it?”

She looked as if she wanted to cry, and then plucked up her courage. “Mom, some of the other kids in school tell me that their parents remember me being born. They told me that Auntie Jo was my mother. That would make me a half-sister to the twins, wouldn’t it? I’ve loved you as my Mom. Tell me that you’re more than my adoptive parent, please.”

I nodded to Josie, now weeping openly. “Darling Alicia,” she nodded. “Those kids were right. I’m your birth mother. You were to be my lifebelt in the turbulence that my world had become. I was stupid enough to walk away from you and it’s something I’ve regretted ever since. Edie wasn’t your mother. She was your father before she transitioned. The two of us are truly your parents. Your adoption was a formality to tidy up the loose ends of the destruction that I left behind. I’m eternally grateful to Edie and my brother that they have brought you up as a fine young lady; and a clever one as well.”

Ali was wide-eyed when she looked at me. “Do I call you Daddy, now?”

I smiled. “Of course not, I’m your mother as far as the world is concerned, and your Daddy is your Daddy. When your Auntie Josie left, I promised you that I would be the best Mom you could have.”

She came over to me and held me close. “Mom, you’re really the best.”

She then went to Josie, and they hugged. Ali told her that she didn’t understand how someone could leave their baby like that, but that she could forgive.

Josie continued crying as she held Ali close. “You’ll always be my baby, sweetheart, even though what I did was so wrong.”

We sat together on a couch, sobbing and hugging, until Josie had recovered. We then tidied up our faces and put on smiles when we went back to the real world.

That day changed some of the family dynamics. Ali must have been harboring some feeling that she was not of the family. She became more loving to me, knowing that I was truly her parent, if not her Mom. She and Jordan continued in a friendly dad and daughter arrangement, although, when she was upset, she’d call him ‘Uncle’.

When the Prentices left the farm there was a lot of hugging and crying. Then they were gone, and we had to settle into our new future. Without Josie around, I became the farm manager, seeing that I was now home a lot more. The farm and the veterinary business gave us a steady income, even if you took away the money from the music catalogue. Jordan and I started to look around for investment possibilities to use some of my banked earnings.

The year rolled on. I had the few concerts with orchestras, but cut back on the vet circuit, which was now well established. Ali continued doing brilliantly with her piano playing and schoolwork. Life was settled and then we had a call from Wayne County.

They wanted to put up a special plaque to commemorate the members of the Pixies who had attended the college. There would be Donna, Pet, Josie, and myself. They wanted to have a proper ceremony where we would unveil it. The selected date was at the end of the term, just as the summer break started.

When the day came around, Josie came up from L.A. We were joined by Janet and Emily, and it was odd to be on a stage with the original Pixies again. The ceremony was quite effusive in the praise of our achievements and the four of us stood together to pull the cord to reveal the plaque. Everyone applauded and then the Mayor came forward to give a speech that further praised our place in putting Detroit on the map. All six of us were then given ceremonial keys to the city. The party afterward was memorable, having many of our old schoolmates there. Charlie and Bruce looked dapper in matching suits and held hands.

The year rolled on and Ali turned nine. She was now considered far enough ahead in her schooling to attend a high school next year and she was getting excited about being out in the big world. Until then, though, she played piano, learned music history, and started writing her own tunes.

One day, she and I were in the rehearsal room and something she played triggered my memory of a dream, so many years before. I sat at the piano and tried to remember the tune I had heard her play. It took a while, but I did, finally, get close. I recorded it on my phone as Ali looked at me in wonder.

“Mom, that’s weird. I’ve been thinking about odd tunes and that’s something I was close to a week or so ago. Did you read my mind?”

“No dear,” I smiled. “That’s a tune I heard in a dream I had, just after you played the concert in Boston on your fourth birthday. It’s been dormant until now.”

“That’s too weird,” she mused. “I’d discounted the fragment I’d thought of as being too odd to go anywhere. Now I’ve heard you play that I think I’ll play around with it. Can we write it out?”

We sat and wrote out what we had. I put it to the back of my mind for a while.

I had been sent a brochure for a commercial shop in one of the big malls. The brochure said that the shop had been a toy store, and the holding company was being liquefied. I was trying to sort out, in my head, what I could do with the site, or even the four sites that were available.

We had been considering a commercial venture for some time and my mind had become fixated by the notion of a store. “Pixie Glade” would carry clothing, furniture, toys, dolls, plush animals, and bedding with a Pixie style. I had spoken to all the original Pixies after the Wayne County event and had been given their permission to use the name. A couple had been interested in being partners.

I called the agent, and we made an appointment to see the Detroit store first. He emailed me the details of the other properties. All four were in good shopping malls, all were quite large, and all four were available, as is, with display furniture, sale desks and some computer hardware. The best thing was that the four malls were keen to gain a new business and had offered a rent reduction in the first six months.

It was Pet, Emily, and I who showed up to inspect the Detroit property. It was certainly big enough for what was in my mind. The other girls agreed to go thirds and we agreed to take up the four stores. We were given a month before we needed to move in and that gave us time to register “Pixie Glade Holdings” with the three of us as directors.

I had been talking to some of our old suppliers and they had been working on product design and prototyping. In the week we moved in, we had beds, sideboards, vanities, chairs, and tables that would look good in a fairy-tale. There was linen, blankets, quilts, and pillowcases. Half of the first store was clothing, shoes, and underwear to suit any budding pixie princess. Toys and stuffed animals were scattered throughout.

We had advertised for sales staff with one proviso that they be young and willing to spend their day wearing outfits that fitted the store. The manager we took on was happy to wear a queenly outfit and it all came together well, our first two weeks saw crowds of smiling mothers with hordes of squealing girls running around, clutching wanted toys, and bouncing on the pink beds. The fact that the three of us took turns to be in-store helped.

Over the next three weeks we opened the stores in Chicago, Minneapolis, and Cincinnati. We had tapped into a niche market and the four stores held their own through the summer. A lot of the clothing was cheap enough to be upgraded often and light enough to be worn in the warmer weather. We had heavier outfits ready to roll for winter. I now had an accountancy company looking after the books, and their guy assured us that the stores would stay in the black, year-round, as long as we kept bringing in new designs, colors, and product.

At the end of summer, Alicia started attending high school. I took her in and picked her up for a while until she made friends who would look out for her. She was popular, being a concert pianist and member of a band helped. It was a whirlwind of teas out, slumber parties, and time with friends in the mall. She may have only been coming up to ten, but she looked like a teenager, a teenager with an owners account at “Pixie Glade”. Not all her friends were into princess styles, but those that were looked wonderful when they all got dressed up.

Her tenth birthday was held in the Dude Ranch, garlanded with streamers and balloons. Her friends and their parents were invited, us oldies all over one side. We had the stage set for a performance of Snowden, minus Josie.

Joyce filled in on guitar and I played mine. Ali and Tabitha were on piano and did most of the singing. Sharron and Carol played washboard and maracas. It was a lot of fun, and many of the other parents congratulated us on a very different party.

While all this was happening, the farm ticked over as it usually did. The special school was still filled with very brainy children. Tabitha was queen-bee once Ali had moved on. It was amazing how quickly they all grew in stature in the nurturing environment.

The new children had been chosen with care. Two out of the three were musical, the third being an accomplished artist at nine years old.

We kept everything at the size it had got to, without any need to make any more changes. Brad had sold the building business, and he and Alicia had followed my parents down to Fort Lauderdale, rather than California, their first idea.

Christmas, that year, was a small family affair plus our permanent staff with all of us helping with the food.

New Year we had a big bonfire behind the sheds and invited all our workers to a barbeque. That included our Detroit shop staff and their families for the first time. We funded a party in each of the other cities for the other shops.

The following year was busy. I had my stores to look after. Allan had booked me for four piano concerts and two guitar concerts. All were with orchestras within the country.

In February, I was contacted by Senor Saintz. He wanted Joyce and me to go to Paris to discuss a tour that might be held in the following year. We were intrigued so went over in March.

The concept was something that he and his friend Roberto had hatched. Roberto would make me a guitar like the one Joyce played. We would then play several concerts, yet to be finalized, in France, playing only French guitar music on French guitars. Senor Saintz would make a guitar for Joyce and then we would play a similar number of concerts in Spain, playing only Spanish music on Spanish guitars.

I thought the Spanish part would be easier but was told that there were a lot of French writers of guitar music. The tour, we were assured, would only last eight weeks. At least one, in each country, would be filmed for showing over Europe. We were both properly measured and given a list of music that we could pick from.

When we got home and told Allan about the concept, he was quietly excited by it, enough to talk to our favorite TV guy in Boston about the plan. Allan came back to us a week later with another idea. He had been asked if Joyce and I would put together a show on American guitar music. The core of this idea was a tribute to the older players, with Chet Atkins, Vince Gill, and a few others as the mainstays. This would mean that we would have to perfect fingerpicking, not insurmountable, as we were close to the style playing the classics.

The TV station in Boston would bid for the two European shows and then put the three on, syndicated across the country. We were offered a cut of the advertising revenue if we agreed.

It was tempting.

Marianne Gregory © 2023