Page 12 of One Last Regret

His wife, Audrey, is not a sweetheart, nor is she darling. If Claude is Santa Claus, then Audrey is Jack Frost—or Jane Frost, I suppose—cold, aloof, and barren. She doesn’t smile when she greets me, nor does she smile when she greets anyone.

Meeting her teaches me one useful thing, though. Josephine most definitely did not despise her husband. There is a difference between the occasional irritation Josephine shows and the naked contempt with which Audrey regards Claude.

Claude seems not to notice it at all. He smiles as he tells me how the two of them met, and when he looks at her, his eyes shine with real love.

"I was a talent scout for the Houston Philharmonic Orchestra at the time," he says in a mellow Cajun baritone. I was auditioning cellists and I'd taken a break for lunch in the park. I came across the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen playing a harp on a bench. I remember I stood there for hours listening to her. Do you remember, dear?"

“How could I forget?” she says drily.

“I watched her, ignoring all of the increasingly panicked phone calls from the other scout traveling with me, and finally, she looked me up and down and said, ‘If you’re going to stand there all day, then you can at least introduce yourself to me.’ Well, I did, and a year later, we were married.”

He beams at her, and she makes the saddest attempt at a smile I've ever seen. Or rather, the angriest. Her lips stretch in something that resembles a crone's leer more than an expression of joy. "Married fifteen years next week," she says.

Her tone is flat and emotionless. It reminds me of my mother’s, and my skin crawls. I can’t help but wonder if Claude is in danger. Not a kind thought, I know, but remember, I have some experience with vindictive wives.

Etienne and the children enter the room, and several of the other guests offer greetings. Audrey’s eyes move to Etienne, and a wave of longing crosses her face. Etienne, it seems, has quite a way with women.

Neither Etienne nor Claude seem to notice Audrey’s reaction, even when she greets him with an embrace that lingers longer than it should. “It’s so good to see you, Etienne,” she says.

“It’s wonderful to see you both as well,” he replies.

Audrey flinches at the word both and casts a brief, sidelong look of hate at Claude. Claude is looking at Etienne and doesn’t see it. “You look wonderful,” he tells the younger man. “When are you going to do the Christian thing and find a young woman to settle down with?”

A horribly inappropriate question, but I get the impression that Claude is viewed as a dear uncle to the Lacroixs. Either way, Etienne handles the question beautifully, laughing politely, then saying, “But remember, Claude, Christ never married. In any case, I did find a young woman to settle down with, and she lives fondly in my memory every day.”

A touch of grief crosses Claude’s face. “Yes. I miss her too.”

“We all do,” Josephine says.

Audrey mutters something, but no one seems to hear it. That’s probably for the best.

The children scamper up, and Amelia throws her arms around Claude and Audrey. Gabriel grins at them and offersa bashful handshake. I'll give Audrey credit. She softens immediately once the children show up and even bends down to give Gabriel a kiss on the cheek. "Hey guys! I'm so glad your grandma let you stay up!"

“I always let them stay up,” Josephine protests. “Do I look like I have the energy to enforce a bedtime?”

“Wealwaysgo to sleep by nine,” Amelia retorts. “It’s just that we don’t have lessons tomorrow.”

“Only because Mr. Franz and I intend to drink until we’re forced to impose on Miss Josephine’s hospitality tonight,” Mr. Gilroy says.

The two teachers approach the group arm in arm. Franz casts an affectionately irritated look at Gilroy. “Youwill havetwodrinks and if you want anymore, it will wait until we’re home.”

Gilroy pats Franz’s hand. “Of course, dear, of course.”

Franz rolls his eyes. “I’ll make sure he behaves, Miss Josephine.”

A single note sounds from the piano. That one note is enough to silence the crowd and turn everyone’s attention to the instrument.

A brief arpeggio follows, and gasps fill the room as the attendees see Gabriel sitting on the bench with sheet music in front of him. Claude lifts an eyebrow to Josephine. “You didn’t tell me we were going to be blessed with a performance from your grandson, Miss Josephine.”

Etienne frowns at Amelia, who beams gleefully at her grandmother. When she sees her grandmother’s shocked eyes and thin, bloodless lips, her smile fades into a look of confusion that quickly transforms to irritation. “This will be good,” she says, “You’ll see. Gabriel found a new piece.”

“Whatnew piece?” Etienne demands.

Gabriel himself answers that question when he starts to play. I’ve already spoken a little about how his playing affectsme, so I won’t belabor the point except to say that it becomes immediately clear that I am not the only one so affected. The room stands in awe of the melody that pours forth from the old piano. Claude and most of the room are enraptured. Even Audrey appears entranced. Etienne and Josephine appear more terrified than charmed, but they stand stock still, seemingly unable to move or react in any way to the music. It is as though Gabriel has placed the room under a spell.

As for me, the awe and joy I feel the first time he plays fills me for the first few measures, but as the piece progresses, those emotions alter. The piece itself begins as a beautiful, romantic overture, more classical than jazz. After a minute or so, the tempo increases, becoming jaunty and playful. Gradually, this playfulness becomes mischievous as the melody leads the ear toward familiar phrases only to switch directions seemingly out of nowhere, taunting the listener with its approach to a conclusion but refusing to reach that conclusion.

This mischievousness becomes irreverent, and the music itself takes a darker tone. Now, it is no longer playful but biting and sarcastic. It mocks us for being unable to follow or understand it, and this is when my joy turns slowly to fright.

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