“Precisely,” I say, since she’s basically telling me what I want to hear. It’s always best to get a woman’s perspective on stuff like this. Hopeful and excited, I tell her what happened in Maui and the dinner invitation, while she devours two more donuts.
“Flowers always go over well,” she says. “You have anything in mind?”
“Not really. I was thinking maybe taking something cheery, but…” I shrug to hide a mild discomfiture at not having figured out what yet.
“How about something pink? Carnations or roses. They’re both classic and elegant.”
Not pink roses. They used to be my mom’s favorite. “Carnations sound perfect. You’re a genius.”
She laughs and pulls out another donut.
“So what have you been practicing on this super-fancy piano of yours?” I ask because I know it’ll please her to tell me. It seems like the right topic to steer her to, since she’s been so helpful.
“I was working on a piece by Schubert, transcribed by Liszt when you came. Wanna hear it?”
“Of course.”
Listening to Ivy isn’t like enduring some amateur’s painful attempt. She’s a concert-level pianist, and the sound she can pull out of a piano is pure magic.
She wipes her fingers off, opens the Bösendorfer up and lays her hands on the keys. The notes she teases out of the piano are soft, delicate and haunting. Her long fingers move gently and seemingly effortlessly. Her eyes start to close, and it seems like the music is coming straight from her soul.
I’m not particularly gifted in music, but something I can’t quite pinpoint stirs inside me as I listen. When she’s finished, she opens her eyes and looks at me. “What do you think?”
“Riveting.”
“It’s not bad. Just getting there. I need to smooth the phrasing in some places and give it a little more…depth and emotion. The sense of…you know…unrequited love and the deep longing and melancholy that won’t go away.”
I just nod, not because I agree with her, but because that’s the only response I can muster. I don’t understand how she could think that there’s anything wrong with what she just played. But that’s why she’s a concert pianist and I’m not. I used to play the piano, and made everyone within hearing range throw the back of their hand against their forehead and despair. It didn’t help that I hated practicing.
“Thank you for the lovely mini-concert, but I’ve got to get going if I don’t want to be late.”
“Have fun.” She stands, then suddenly snaps her fingers. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Yuna’s flying in tomorrow.”
“She is?” She’s Ivy’s soul sister and one of the funniest people I know. Like Ivy, she’s a gifted pianist. I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like because she lives in Seoul.
“Uh-huh. She’s dying to meet her honorary nephews or nieces. Actually, she’s convinced that they’re one of each.”
“She could be right. That girl is right about a lot of things.”
“Yeah. It’ll be fun if we have one of each.” She grins. “If you can, drop by tomorrow and we’ll have a nice dinner to welcome her.”
“I’d love that.” The evening will be hilarious with Yuna around.
Ivy gives me a look. “Bring a date.”
“Ha.” What a thinly veiled attempt to meet Skittles. “We’ll see after I wow her with my wine.”
But I do plan to invite Skittles to dinner. It’s only right after today’s dinner with her parents, but I have no intention of letting her meet mine. They’d scare her away like snakes scare away…well, most normal creatures.
Besides, since I have no intention of going back to Louisiana, Tony and Ivy are the only nearby family that counts. Most importantly, they’re sane. Since I acted a little bit crazy in Maui, I want to show Skittles I’m a well-adjusted human being with a well-adjusted family.
Ivy walks with me to the cellar. I take Tony’s best rosé. He won’t miss it. Not when Ivy says she gave it to me. “How about I take this?”
“Go for it.” Ivy gestures carelessly. “Good luck with your girl.”
I smile, liking the way she calls Skittles my girl. “Thanks.”
I don’t think I’m going to need much of it with Skittles, especially with my action plan. But I will def