When he opened his eyes again, his attention fell on Shorty. For the first time, a bit of the mask slipped. His dark eyes had been cold and distant before, but now they seemed to be the same rich, warm color of the piano itself.
He slipped into some Gershwin, unable to look away from Shorty. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank Jimmy for this. This is the best piano I’ve ever played.”
“You don’t need to do anything to thank him. Just keep playing like that, and he’ll be happy.” Shorty took a half-step toward the piano. “Who taught you?”