“Well, I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come,” Grandma said later, when we had ensconced her in the daddy chair in the living room. Both cats were as far across the room from Grandma as they could get, with their tails straight up and fluffed out. You could tell they wanted to hiss but were afraid to. Just like me.
“I’ve come for my piano, of course.”
Boom. The sound of that bomb dropping was echoed by my mouth. I think I squealed.
“What’s the matter with him?” Grandma asked Duncan, raising on eyebrow and jerking her head toward me.
“Nothing, dear. What were you saying about the piano?” Duncan’s face had gone pasty white. I almost grinned.
Grandma’s face started to twitch. “That boy—my own son, bastard that he is if I do say so myself, begged me to buy him a piano so he could learn to play it. He pleaded! Finally I gave in, went to the best music store in the city, and bought the damn thing.” She had tears in her eyes now