Page 9 of One Last Regret

“What party?”

“Grandma’s hosting a party for her club. The Midnight Melody. It’s the biggest jazz club in New Orleans.”

She delivers the last line proudly.

“I see. Well, your grandmother hasn’t invited me.”

“She told me to invite you. She does this every year for employees of the club and some musicians and visitors.”

“Oh. Oh, I appreciate that, but I believe your grandmother means for it to beonlyfor employees and patrons of the club.”

“No, she invited you,” Gabriel insists.

When I turn to him, he pales as though shocked that actual words escaped his mouth. I could well believe Amelia choosing to invite me herself, but if Gabriel corroborates her story, then I can believe that Josephine does want me there.

“Well, I’ll ask her, and if she says yes, then I’ll be happy to join.”

“Gabriel’s going to play,” Amelia says proudly.

Gabriel snaps his eyes to his sister. “Shh! No one’s supposed to know!”

“What? She isn’t going to tell.” She looks at me. “You’re not going to tell, are you, Mary?”

I hesitate before answering. The sensible thing to do would be to tell Amelia that I can’t keep secrets from her grandmother. Had the grandfather clock not picked that moment to chime and fill my ears with its ominous ringing, I might have been sensible.

Instead, I say, “Of course I won’t tell.”

“Good!” Amelia crows. “Grandma doesn’t like when people play on the piano. That’s why she always sleeps through our lessons. But she won’t tell him to stop in front of everyone, so he’s going to play that new music you found.”

A chill shoots down my spine. Something inside me screams to stop him, but really, this is too much now. Surely I don’t believe that playing a jazz composition on piano will cause something terrible to happen?

I’ve been superstitious enough about all of this. I do not consider myself flighty or prone to fancy. I must start to think rationally again, or I won’t be able to distinguish between the truth and a lie anymore.

“That sounds exciting! But are you sure it’s not unkind to your grandmother?”

Amelia scoffs. “It’s not going to hurt her. Besides, we miss Grandpa too.”

A part of me thinks she might be invoking his memory to get what she wants, but the emotion in her eyes seems real. I remember that the most confident children are often the most fragile as well.

“Do you want to hear Gabriel play because it reminds you of him?” I ask.

Gabriel shifts uncomfortably. “I’m only going to play the one song. But you should come. Grandmother gets upset easily when people decline her invitations.”

“Well, I will absolutely attend,” I tell him. “And I can’t wait to hear you play either.”

Amelia beams. “Awesome! Plus, you’ll get to meet Claude. He’s cool. I like him.”

“Who is Claude?”

“Mr. Durand,” she replies. “He’s the club manager. He’s cool. He’s like a Santa Claus type, but not creepy.”

I’m not aware of a creepy Santa Claus type, but I smile. “He sounds wonderful.”

“He’s cool.”

“Yes, of course.”

Josephine waltzes into the study room and says, “Mary! There you are. I meant to invite you to my soiree tonight.”

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