Page 17 of Love in Tandem
“What?”
“Melba’s dead,” Charlotte shouted one moment after the song drew to an abrupt end.
This time there was no applause. Probably because everyone in the dining area, including the piano player and singer, had swiveled their gazes to Charlotte. She tried to ignore them and keep her attention focused on the poor old man who was staring back at her with his mouth gaping and tears building on the lower rims of his eyes.
All in all, he seemed to be handling the news quite well.
Charlotte cleared her throat and slid back her chair, needing to escape before the tears breached new territory. Like his cheeks. “I’m sorry. So sorry. If it helps, I know she died in peace.”
That did it. Two fat drops overflowed from his eyes, splashing in what began a synchronized diving contest of tears onto the table. Oh shoot. Was there anything worse than watching a grown man cry? Charlotte grabbed a napkin and handed it to him, then yanked one off the table for herself. “I’m sure she was wonderful.”
“The best,” he whimpered back as they both dabbed their eyes.
“Did she have a favorite song?” She looked to the musicians, who still appeared unsure how to proceed. “Perhaps we can play something in her honor.”
Charlotte emptied out the sugar packet holder on the table and shoved a ten-dollar bill into it as she placed it on top of the piano. “Name a song. Anything. I’m sure they can play it.”
“We actually only know about five songs,” the piano player whispered.
“Well, she did always seem a bit partial to Frank Sinatra,” the old man said.
“Perfect.” One glance at the piano player’s blank expression told Charlotte that wasn’t one of the five songs. “Oh c’mon, you’re wearing a fedora. How can you not know at least one Frank Sinatra song?”
The singer shrugged. “We’re more into slowed down versions of Led Zeppelin songs.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Scoot over. I’ll play.” She hovered her fingers over the keys, then after one chord, rose to her feet and said, “So I actually don’t know many Frank Sinatra songs either. But I do happen to know Nat King Cole’s ‘Smile’?”
The old man blew his nose in a long honking sound, and Charlotte took that as permission to proceed. By the end of the first verse, the singer had googled the lyrics and taken back her microphone. A good thing since Charlotte was too busy crying. Why was a song about smiling so sad?
Halfway through the second verse, a woman’s voice sounded through the sobbing. “Dad? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“Maple’s dead. They’re playing her favorite song.”
“Maple’s not dead. I just saw her when I went by the house to pick up Mom after her hair appointment. And what makes you think Maple has a favorite song? She’s a dog, for crying out loud.” The tall lean woman pointed to a short elderly woman standing next to her. “I told you Dad was getting dementia. Didn’t I tell you he was getting dementia?”
Another thin woman who looked similar enough to be the first woman’s sister started to whimper. “They’re going to have to move in with me, aren’t they?”
Now the elderly woman started to cry. “But I like where we live.”
Charlotte rose from the piano bench. “Excuse me. I think there’s been a minor misunderstanding here. I thought this table was reserved for Melba Clark.” Charlotte frowned at the old man. “Why did you tell me you were here for Melba Clark?” Maybe he did have the beginning stages of dementia.
He rose from his chair. “No, you said you were here for the marble cake, and I said I was too. My wife always gets marble cake for her birthday. Then you told me Maple was dead.”
“Not Maple,” Charlotte said. “Melba.”
“Who’s Melba?” he asked.
More family members had trickled in by now to join the dinner party. “Why’s everybody crying?” one of the men asked.
“Did somebody die?” a little girl asked.
“Melba,” the elderly man said.
By the fifth who’s Melba? Charlotte was certain of two things. One, she’d told the wrong group of people about Melba. Two, she was going to murder Sophia the next time she saw her.
Charlotte slipped another ten into the tip jar. “Is ‘Happy Birthday’ one of the five songs you know?” Then she dodged for the nearest exit.
And she might have made it too. But dang it if that glimpse of cheesecake didn’t catch her eye. Make her pause. Make her think about Melba and the fact she still hadn’t completed her mission.
