“You’re young. Embrace it!” She waggles her brows. “Now, scoot, missy. Enjoy your night whatever you end up doing.” She kisses my cheek before subtly moving me toward the entrance. She walks away smiling, making a beeline for another staff member who needs help at the register.
My mind returns to my mystery stalker as I step outside the store, and a shudder works its way through my body. It’s not the first time I’ve spotted someone in that alley watching me this past week. They keep back, hiding in the shadows, so I don’t know who it is. The build and height suggest it’s a man, and I’m terrified one of my father’s nefarious criminal contactsis stalking me because of something Dad did or something he owes.
Thick fear sludges through my veins as I lift my heavy limbs and force my feet to move. I didn’t bring my car today because it was such a beautiful morning I wanted to walk. I regret it now because I just want to get home behind the safety of our front door.
I pick up my pace, my gaze darting all around as I clutch the strap of my bag and hurry toward home.
As I approach the music shop, my feet slow down as if on autopilot. An older man with a mop of thick gray hair and a matching bushy moustache lounges in the doorway, smiling as I approach.
“I was hoping you would show up today,” he says when I come up alongside him.
“Excuse me?” My brows climb to my hairline.
“I’ve seen you stop and stare at my grand piano more times than I can count in the past week. I’ve been waiting for you to come inside, but I’m an old man and rather impatient these days, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.” His smile is firmly in place as he steps back, sweeping his arm out. “Please come in.”
I stand hesitantly, my gaze bouncing between him and the ebony piano occupying pride of place on an elevated section at the front of the store, just behind the window.
“You can play it if you like,” he says, and it seals the deal.
“Well, when you put it like that.” A wide smile spreads across my mouth as my fingers itch with potent need.
There are only two other people in the store when I enter. An older woman and a young boy of maybe ten or eleven. They are perusing the guitar section, and the little guy has laser-sharp focus as he runs his fingers reverently over the body of a black and red electric guitar.
“I’m Art,” the man says, offering me his hand. “I own this place. Been in my family for generations.”
“Emery.” I shake his warm hand. “I’m relatively new in town. I work at Foley’s, and I’ll be a freshman at RU starting next month.”
“Nice to meet you, Emery. How long have you been playing?” he asks as I drop my bag on the ground by the piano and place my hand on the top of the Steinway.
“How do you know I can play?”
“It’s the look on your face. Every time I have seen you staring through the window at this beauty, your face comes alive. Your eyes glisten. Your cheeks pull up. And the most glorious smile comes out to play. But it’s the longing that gives you away.” He chuckles. “Or maybe it’s one pianist recognizing another.”
“You play?” I ask as I move around toward the bench.
“Not for some time.” He holds out his stiff hands. “Arthritis put a stop to all that.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
He chuckles again. “It does, my dear. Perhaps I can live vicariously through you.”
“Then you get to pick,” I say, sliding onto the bench and lifting the fallboard. “What would you like me to play?”
“How varied is your repertoire?”
“Varied.” I smile, lightly resting my fingers on the keys. A soothing warmth envelops my bones, and it’s like coming home.
“Bizet’sCarmen,” he says.
“Good choice.” I draw a deep breath and start playing, quickly losing myself in the music.
“Bravo,” Art says, clapping when I finish. The woman and the little boy are hanging back a little, smiling and clapping.
I stay in the shop playing request after request, and people trickle in from outside, crowding around me as I play. Theaudience doesn’t faze me as I fall into the music and my own little world.
My little adventure ends when Art gets a call from his daughter-in-law, reminding him about a family dinner.
The crowd disperses, and I swoop down to grab my bag.
