“You might want to go shopping. For an outfit. You know . . .”
She took another few paces before finishing for him. “For the gala.”
“Well, yes.”
“This just gets worse and worse.”
“Forget I said anything.”
“No. You’re right. And it’s not the clothes.”
“It’s everything. I know.”
Another few paces, then, “Rafi will go nuts when I ask him to help me shop.”
“And Rafi is . . . ?”
“My manager. He and his partner Graham own a gallery. They’re two of my closest friends. Graham will enjoy shopping, too. But with less volume.”
“Rafi is excited about Miami?”
“Oh no.Exciteddoesn’t even come close.” She stopped where her drive met the road. “They’ll be thrilled to learn about tomorrow’s concert.”
“It’s not a concert. Not even close.”
“I know. A dress rehearsal.”
“With cameras swooping around the place. And no food. One round of drinks only.” He explained their aim to run through the program, start to finish. No stopping or reworking if something went wrong. Danny and his team were going to shoot it, so they would hopefully have footage they could splice into the concert itself. Add atmosphere and a sense of momentum both to the documentary and the film. Ian finished, “They’ll be hearing exactly the same lineup in Miami. That is, assuming they’ll want to attend both concerts.”
“It’s too late for jokes.”
“Okay, so I’ll speak with Kiki. Make sure there’s room for two more in the box.”
Kari’s smile held a lantern glow. “A private box. So they can watch Ian Hart in concert. They’ll die. They’ll just die.”
Another kiss, far too brief in his mind. A quiet word of thanks for including him at the dinner. How nice it was to meet her new friends. And her wonderful, beautiful kitten. A final soft kiss. Then he set his guitar in the back and slipped behind the wheel. A wave, a flash of lights, and he was gone. Leaving Kari standing there, clad in the starlight’s silver gleam, stroking a feline that would not stop purring.
