“Want to bring it down here?” Riva asked. “It’d be fun to clean up to your music.”
“Really?” Fiona beamed. “I’d love to serenade you. Music is meant to be enjoyed. Anyone else?”
“I’m beat,” Laurel told her. “I plan to take a relaxing bath in Epsom salts to soak off my aches and pains from all that yard work today.”
“It must be such a drag to get old,” Kitty said glibly.
Laurel humphed as she left the kitchen, and Riva held back the urge to scold Kitty. Good grief, Laurel wasn’t that much older than her. Based on Kitty’s story, she couldn’t be more than ten years younger than Laurel. She might do Botox and face lifts and whatever people did these days to preserve their youth, but the clock would eventually catch up.
By the time Riva finished cleaning the kitchen and Windy was done food prepping, Fiona had stopped playing her fiddle and switched over to her phone for an online music provider that was tuned into other Celtic Irish folk bands. “For inspiration,” she told them. “This is what we want to sound like someday.”
“Based on what I’ve heard from just you playing alone, your group probably already sounds like them.” Riva hung up her dish towel.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to hear you all together.” Windy closed the fridge. “This music makes me want to dance.”
“Then let’s dance!” Fiona grabbed both their hands and before long she had them jigging and clogging and step-dancing around the kitchen.
After dancing to several lively numbers, Riva sat down on a stool. “This is too much fun, but I need a break.”
“Me too. I’m knackered.” Fiona turned off the music and gathered her things. “But after that practice, I expect you both to cut loose on the dance floor tomorrow night.”
“I can’t wait.” Windy got herself a glass of water. “That’s good exercise.”
“Well, I’ll warn you guys,” Riva said, “dancing in my kitchen is one thing. Dancing out in public is something else.”
“We’ll just see about that.” Fiona grinned. “Good night, ladies.”
After Fiona left, Windy turned to Riva. “I understand about your inhibitions.”
“My inhibitions?” Riva frowned. “I thought I was being rather uninhibited just now.”
“Yeah, in your kitchen. But beyond this house? Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I felt totally shut down and closed-up after Bill died. But then, after I lost my house and everything, and I started to embrace my hippie roots, I learned to let my inhibitions go.”
“That’s admirable, Windy. For you, anyway. But I honestly doubt I’ll ever get to that place ... I mean, letting all my inhibitions go.” To be honest, she wasn’t even comfortable with the idea of being that uninhibited. It frightened her.
“Which is exactly the reason you must come to my drumming circle with me,” Windy told her.
“What’s a drumming circle?”
“It’s a group of women who gather once a month to play drums.”
“I don’t even know how to play a drum.”
“No one really knows how. It’s more like an instinct. Something you do. We just let go and go with the flow. It’s more thanjust drumming though. It’s a whole spiritual experience. Cultures for thousands of years have drummed and made music together. For women to gather like that, well, it’s surprisingly empowering—and such a cool release.”
Riva considered her next words carefully. “That all sounds interesting, but I really don’t think it’s for me.”
“How can you possibly know that if you won’t even try it?”
Riva thought about it.
“Come on, Riva, live dangerously for once.” Windy laughed. “Not that a bunch of women with drums are dangerous. But go ahead and take a risk. It might feel good.”
Riva really didn’t enjoy feeling inhibited, but playing drums with a bunch of strange women? Seriously? “Would I need to dress, well, like you do?”
Windy looked down at her tie-dye T-shirt and embroidered bellbottom jeans. “No, of course not. You dress in whatever’s comfortable to you. All you need to do is come with me and be open to the possibilities.”
“When is it?”
