Part 21 (1/2)
”No, I know what you mean.” I pointed to the corkscrew and he slapped my hand. ”You don't have to say the word.”
”You are so bad tonight! What got into you?”
I just stared at him as if to say, whaddya think?
”Yeah, it's way too cavalier to just call it . . . anyway, you know, here comes this memory and I lose total concentration, I start reliving the moment and I'm worthless for the rest of the afternoon. It's like I'm possessed or something.”
”Well, Risley? I hope you never call the exorcist. And, by the way, I am experiencing the same phenomenon. All I did today was think about the curve in your lower back. Aren't we a little old to be carrying on like this? I mean, what if we die in the middle of, you know . . .” I gave the corkscrew the hook of my thumb.
”I'm hiding this thing from you,” he said, smiling. ”Cate, if we die in the middle of carrying on I will be one happy dead man. But I don't think we're at risk quite yet.”
”You know, I had all this fear and trepidation about us sleeping together so soon into our relations.h.i.+p and now I wonder what the heck was I so worried about? We're old enough to do what we want, aren't we?”
”Yep.” He handed me a goblet. ”And, we're also old enough to know what we want, too.”
”So, we're not really a couple of impetuous idiots?”
”So what if we are? Who's going to judge us?”
I gave him a kiss on his cheek, we touched the rims of our gla.s.ses, and we took a sip.
”What are we drinking to?” he said.
In the few short weeks we had been seeing each other we had drunk to everything under the sun, including my car, which was finally fixed and parked outside. But more important, our attraction and affection for each other had grown into a full-blown romance.
”Let's drink to us,” I said and raised my gla.s.s.
”To us! And to the night!”
”To the night!” I said and remembered my piano. ”Oh! Let's drink to Cunningham.”
”Okay. Here's to Cunningham! Who's Cunningham?”
I giggled and said, ”Come! I'll show you!”
I took him by the hand back out to the front room where the Porgy and Bess display was.
He looked at the piano, dropped his jaw, and looked at me.
”Where did you get this piano?” he said in a somber voice.
”My mother gave it to me when I was a little girl. Why? What's the matter?”
”Do you realize this is the exact same piano that the Heywards and Gershwin used to write the music to Porgy and Bess?”
”No way!”
”Yes! The real one's on display at the Charleston Museum. I'll take you there myself and show it to you.”
”Oh, come on, John. You're pulling my leg.” He could not have been more serious. ”You're not pulling my leg. This is a true story?”
”Yes, ma'am. True story. Same make. Same model. Probably the same year.”
”Holy moly. My mother bought it for me from Siegling's Music House. It was used. I just had it cleaned and refinished. It was delivered this afternoon.”
”Siegling's? You've got to be joking, right?”
”Why would I joke about something like that? I joke about a lot of things, you know, like my weight, my age . . . not pianos. No, can't say I ever made a piano joke.”
”Right.” John walked over to the piano and ran his hand across the top. ”She's a beauty.”
”It wasn't so pretty when I found Addison swinging over it.”
”I can't even imagine how awful that must have been for you. I don't care if he was Genghis Khan.”
”He practically was.”
”What a moron. Cate?”
”Yeah?”
”This is a pretty eerie coincidence, don't you think?”
”Well, I didn't think anything until you said it was the same piano . . .” The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I had a sudden chill. ”Eerie, I don't know, but it's strange. That's for sure. When was Gershwin here?”
”The summer of 1934. He was here for seven weeks.”
”Wow. In which house?”
”Well, the house he rented was blown away by Hurricane Hugo but he was in this very house on many nights.”
”You know, I found all these c.o.c.ktail recipes in Dorothy Heyward's papers at the Historical Society.”
”Really? Gosh, if this room is where they had their piano and they probably did have it in here . . .”
”Yeah, because it would take daggum Harry Houdini to get it up those stairs.”
”That's for sure. But I'll bet you they sat around this same room and drank whatever they drank. What did they drink?” John was getting very keyed up.
”Martinis. And a lot of weird punches they made with champagne and liquor.”
”Well, maybe we should make martinis and drink them in their honor.”
”Why not? Maybe a little one. Tomorrow I'll get us a bottle of gin or vodka and some vermouth and some olives, I guess?”
”I'll bring my shaker. Cate, this is really unbelievable. If I was a religious man, I'd take this as a sign from G.o.d.”
”What? What sign?”
”Cate? I want you to listen to me, very carefully, okay?”