Magnificent Folly - Iris Johansen [1]
Cassie shook her head. “No, inside. I feel beautiful inside. Warm and sort of glowing and filled with something”—she made a helpless gesture with one hand, as if reaching for words—“special. Kind of like when I play Brahms.”
“Sounds more like Mozart.”
Cassie made a face. “You’re making fun of me.”
Lily shook her head. “No way. Just trying to make you think in more precise terms. Mozart can be peaceful. Brahms has more sweep and power. Which is it?”
“Maybe a little of both.” Cassie nodded with satisfaction. “Yes, two parts Mozart and one part Brahms.”
Lily’s laughter pealed out. “Well, that’s precise enough.”
“I want to put it down on paper.”
Lily tried to hide a start of surprise. Cassie hadn’t done any type of composing since before the tour the year before, and Lily had begun to think she was rejecting creating anything new to avoid another onslaught of publicity such as the introduction of her first concerto had brought. “After supper,” she said firmly. “Shower, supper, dishes, piano. If it’s worthwhile, it will stay with you.”
“But I want to—” Cassie broke off as she glanced up at her mother’s face. “Shower, supper, piano,” she said as a counteroffer. “You do the dishes tonight, I’ll take your turn tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
They walked in companionable silence while the blazing scarlet of the sky turned to smoky lavender.
“You’re not old,” Cassie said abruptly. “Why did you say that? You’ll never be old.”
“Everyone grows old, Cassie.”
“Not you.” Cassie’s clasp tightened on her hand. “You’re like a Bach fugue, strong and memorable, with every note crystal clear. You’ll always be like that.”
“Trust you to compare me to a fugue.” Lily tried to keep the throatiness from her voice. “Are you trying to get out of doing the dishes tomorrow, too, young lady?”
Cassie glanced up, her round face alight with mischief. “If it works. Does it?”
“Nope.”
“What about if I compare you to Mozart?”
Lily shook her head.
“You’re pretty tough. Mozart sparkles like a diamond.”
Cassie sparkled with the same many-faceted appeal, alternating between the mischief of a child and the wisdom of an adult. A feeling of profound thanksgiving suddenly surged through Lily. What had she ever done to deserve a miracle like Cassie? “I have to be tough, with a con artist like you in the house.”
“I don’t try to con you.”
Lily raised a skeptical brow.
“No, really, I don’t,” Cassie insisted. “I’d never try to …” She giggled. “Well, almost never.”
“Almost and never?” Lily clucked reprovingly. “Precision, love.”
Cassie grimaced. “You’re as bad as Professor Kozeal. Precision is boring. I like the thundering flourishes better.”
“I know you do. But you have to have both in a piano concerto.” Lily paused. “And in life, Cassie.”
Cassie turned to look at her. “You don’t,” she said gravely. “You don’t have any thundering flourishes. Why don’t you do—”
“You provide quite enough flourishes for both of us,” Lily replied, interrupting quickly. “Maybe I’m more Rachmaninoff than you think, brat.”
Cassie shook her head positively. “Bach.” They were approaching the weathered cedar cottage on the rise when Cassie abruptly stopped. “Wait. I forgot to say good-bye.”
“What?”
Cassie started to turn around. “I forgot to say good-bye to him.”
Lily stiffened. “Him?”
Cassie was waving at the shadowy figure on the cliff. As Lily watched, the man lifted his arm and waved in return. It was a casual gesture, free of any hint of menace, yet Lily felt the chill return. She kept her tone carelessly casual. “Who is he, Cassie? Has he ever spoken to you?”
“No.” Cassie waved again and turned away. “But he’s always there. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Yes.” Lily was silent a moment, trying to find the right words of caution that wouldn’t frighten. “Sometimes it’s not wise to be too friendly to strangers.