“You’re very sweet to offer, Ian.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a ‘Don’t talk silliness.’” The kitten started squirming, so Kari set her on the pavement. When Sienna fell into step between them, she said, “I’m not letting her outdoors off the leash. Maybe in time, but I don’t think so. I’ve heard animal sounds at night. I’m afraid something might get her.”
“That’s probably wise.”
The evening held them in a balmy embrace. The homes they passed were illuminated and welcoming. Conversation and laughter and the sound of chattering televisions drifted in the otherwise still air. Then through one screened door came the sounds of a full orchestra.
“Debussy,” Ian said. “That piece is called Arabesque. He never wrote for guitar. But I did a rendition of one of his pieces.”
“ ‘Claire de Lune,’” Kari said. “I have the album.”
“Okay, now I’m really impressed.” When she merely smiled in response, he added, “If you’re coming to our concert in Miami—”
“Don’t be silly. Of course I am.”
“Tomorrow night will be an exact duplicate. Assuming we don’t mess anything up.”
“Why should that bother me?” Two steps, then, “Ian, I listen to your albums all the time.”
He had no idea how to respond, except to reach over with the hand not carrying his case and rest it on her shoulder. Drawing them closer still.
As they approached the last house before the valley gates, he could see families filling the backyard. “Who are these people?”
Before she could respond, however, Kari’s phone chimed. She checked the readout and said, “It’s my manager. Which reminds me. Can they come tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Great.” She handed him the kitten. “Go on inside and introduce yourself. Tell them I’ll be in soon as I’m done.”
Which was how Ian wound up entering the house full of strangers. Carrying his guitar in one hand. And a cinnamon-dappled kitten in the other. He might have made more of a stir if he had been accompanied by a full marching band.
Then again, maybe not.
