Sylvia stopped half way down the stairs and let the music from the piano flow through her, gently kissing the shores of her soul. Her step softened as she descended to the bottom of the stairs and glided across the floor to the living room where the piano tuner tested the results of his art. Standing in the entranceway she watched Jameson’s hands dance across the keys breathing life back into the Heintzman she had bought barely a month ago at an estate auction.
She had met Jameson at the party of a friend around the time she had bought the piano. Unable to explain how she had known or how it had happened, by the end of the evening she had thrown her practical conservatism and finely tuned logic to the wind and had fallen in love with him.
She watched his shoulder length blonde hair sway to and fro to the rhythm and tempo of the music. Spiriting herself across the floor, she...