Chapter 30

“There’s the stage,” she said as she pointed ahead of us, “and the upright piano over there is where Daniel died.”

Okay, that was creepy.

“Heart attack?”

“Yes. Such a shock to all of us. One minute, he was playing Gershwin. Then he fell off the stage.”

Yeesh.

“Damn.”

“Fuckis more like it.”

It never ceased to amaze me just how colorful my mother’s language could be. Dad had been a Marine and had educated us all in the nuances of swearing over the years. Mom never objected. She loved it, the kooky old woman. To look at her, all five-feet-two inches and delicate skin and features, you wouldn’t think she’d say boo to a goose. More than likely, the goose would run away from her. Her air of frailty was her secret weapon.

“Why don’t you go on stage and check out the piano? I’ll find a program from the show, and we’ll huddle.”

“Sure.” I bounded up the wooden steps to the platform.