CHAPTER9
Ian ate his solitary meal, lifted by the sudden appearance of his all-time favorite painter. He would like to think Amelia had had a hand in the introduction, though that was probably going too far. Just the same, he drank in the restaurant’s shared atmosphere with his wine as a heady cheer enveloped even him.
As he set down his fork with a satisfied sigh, a man’s voice said, “Excuse me, Mr. Hart?”
“Yes?”
“Connor Larkin. This is my wife, Sylvie. Arthur is a neighbor. And a friend. He called us and said you’d be coming.”
“Sorry we couldn’t offer you a table.” The bright-eyed woman shared her husband’s smile. “We’re booked solid whenever my husband tries to upstage the food.”
“A place at the bar suits me just fine.” Ian accepted the man’s hand. “You’re the actor.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Sylvie said, “Arthur mentioned you’re helping out with a certain crisis we’re not supposed to know about.”
“Trying to.”
“We’re both big fans,” Sylvie said. “Of you. Not Arthur. He’s a sweetie pie when he’s not being Miramar’s number one grump burger.”
Connor said, “Sylvie’s been playing our twins your music since before they were born.”
“I’m partial to swing,” Sylvie said. “Compliments of dear old dad. I’m hoping early doses of classical music can prod these two in a loftier direction.”
They were both seasoned pros at introductions. No gushing, no awkward pauses or comments about events that had no place in the evening.
“Arthur insisted on treating you tonight,” Connor told Ian. “But you’ve got to come back again as our guest.”
“Next time we might even find you a table.” Sylvie pointed her husband toward the stage set by the front window. “Now you need to excuse my guy. He needs to go earn his keep.”
Ian could actually feel Amelia’s finger prodding his ribs. Doing her best to touch him at the heart level. “Would it be okay if I joined you for a song?”
Both faces lit up, two people illuminated with the sort of delight that Amelia would have loved.
Connor said, “Are you kidding? It would be an absolute honor.”
Sylvie warned, “My husband doesn’t have a clue when it comes to classical music.”
“That’s both true and not true. I know how to listen,” Connor said. “I know how to love it. But from the audience’s standpoint only.”
“I’ve always enjoyed swing.” Ian glanced at Amelia’s wineglass sitting there on the bar. He missed her terribly. “My aunt, the reason I’m here in Miramar, she was hooked on big band.”
“This has the makings of a great night,” Sylvie said. Then a head popped out the kitchen door, and a hand waved in her direction. “Ian, promise me you’ll come back when we can chat.”
“I’d like nothing better,” he replied and meant it. Friends already.
“Let me play a couple of intro numbers. And then come up with the band.” Connor clapped him on the shoulder. “This is going to be a session to remember.”
Ian slipped from the restaurant and retrieved his guitar from the Kia’s trunk. The bartender was now playing hostess. She introduced herself as Marcela and offered to carry his instrument up front. Ian returned to his place by the bar and watched as Connor spoke to a trio occupying a table by the stage, then slipped behind the piano and adjusted his mike.
As soon as Connor launched into his first song, Ian knew he had been right to ask. Any doubts he might have harbored, all arguments regarding his present state or the fact that he had spent the afternoon in Arthur’s studio, simply vanished.
The song was Nat King Cole’s “Stardust,” which Amelia had played every time the blues descended.Love is now the stardust of yesterday, the music of the years gone by.He could actually hear his aunt humming along with Connor.
Connor was an excellent pianist, but his voice was the standout. Ian had met any number of such talented people who had the potential to achieve stardom. But for one reason or another, they had remained on the periphery of commercial success. Ian looked around the restaurant, took in the rapt expressions on so many faces, then caught Kari’s eye. A look from across the room, her face glowing in the candlelight. He lifted his glass in salute and was warmed by her smile.
Connor segued directly into a second melody, this one by Norah Jones, entitled “Come Away with Me.” He finished the song, waited through the cheering applause, then motioned for his band to join him. They settled into place, only now there was an empty seat, with two mikes on booms placed between the drummer and Connor’s baby grand. Ian’s guitar rested in an oversized frame that was meant to hold a bass.
