Page 56 of The Sound of Temptation

His eyes widen in surprise, and he claps his hands together with a loud hoot. “Well, hot damn. Walk ‘round and lemme show her to you.” He nods at the small opening in the gleaming mirrored bar top.

“Be right back,” he shouts to the rest of the bar staff and beckons me to follow him through the kitchen. He stops at every prep station we pass, and by the time we reach the back of the kitchen, I’m sweating and hungry.

We step into the small, dark, cool corridor, and I hold my shirt away from my chest to let some of that air cool my skin.

Gary gives me a sheepish grin and pulls a set of keys from his pocket and turns to open a door on the left. “Sorry that took so long, it’s just through here.” He yanks the door open, and we step out into the cool night air. The cloudy sky has obscured the moon, and I can’t see two feet in front of my face.

“Here we go,” he says, and a beam of light shines from a flashlight in his hand. He holds it out ahead of us and reveals a corpse of trees with a path cleared through them. “It’s just down this way.”

I look back at the door we just stepped through and back at the scene in front of me. The trees that line the dirt trail he’s pointing at cast eerie shadows on the ground. I can’t help my shudder. Maybe, I shouldn’t have asked Etta to wait in the car. “I can come back tomorrow.”

He laughs. “Don’t be such a pussy, city boy. Come on.” He starts off down the trail. I hesitate until the flashlight’s beam starts to fade. I pull my phone out, turn my flashlight on, and follow him.

I’ve been walking for a few minutes, cursing myself for letting his taunt get under my skin. I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me as I go when the light floods the whole space.

I look up to find him waving at me while standing in front of a small shack with a corrugated tin roof.

“No chainsaw killers.” He waves his arm around the small, brightly lit room, and then walks over to a piano covered with a dust cloth and yanks it off with a flourish. “Just pianos.’”

Whatever dry remark was on the tip of my tongue evaporates when my eyes fall on the small Steinway grand piano sitting in the middle of the room.

“Take a look and see what you think. I bought it for my sister, but she’s hardly touched it.”

I already know what I think. I’d know this beauty anywhere. I wrote the best songs of my entire career sitting at that bench. I lift and straighten the lid to peer inside. The strings are intact. I run a hand over the gleaming fall board and lift to reveal the keys. They’re all there, too.

I look over at Gary who’s watching me with a wistful expression. “This is a 1989 Steinway Model B, Grand. Why are you selling it for $5000 when it’s easily worth 10 times that?”

His eyes widen in surprise. “It’s worth fifty thousand dollars?”

I nod. “Easily.” I stand and face him. Curious about how this came to be in his possession. “How much did you pay for it?”

“Thirty seven bucks.”

My eyes bulge. “What?”

“That rich asshole who owns Winsome. He had it sitting on the curb like trash years ago, and I stopped and asked. He said I could have it for whatever was in my wallet.” He shakes his head in wonder. “I knew it was worth something. I mean, it makes the one in our dining room look like kindling wood, but… damn. Fifty thousand dollars. I would have sold it sooner.”

I glance around the dusty shed. It’s a storage room for all sorts of furniture, most of it, like the piano, is covered by dust cloths.

“So why are you selling it now?”

He pulls his baseball cap off to reveal his bald head and hairless brow. “Chemo. I’ve got medical bills. Need the money.”

“I’m sorry.” I glance back at the piano and salivate. But if he needs the money, he could do a lot better than I could afford. “You should get it appraised. Sell it to one of the piano retailers. There are several in NYC. I can—”

“No.” He holds up a hand and glances at the piano with unmasked longing and then shakes his head. “I don’t have that kind of time, man. I’ve got bills due, a mortgage on this place and a sister to take care of. If you got the cash, it’s yours. If not, I’ll take whatever you’ve got. “

I feel like a mercenary paying so little for it. I run a mental calculator and deduct the estimate from the contractor. It puts a good dent in my nest egg. But this piano meant something to Beth. And it certainly means something to me. “I can pay you ten thousand for it. “

His jaw drops, and he covers his mouth with his hand and stares at me. I curse inwardly at my own stupidity. “I know I said fifty grand. But I don’t have that kind of cash to—”

He lunges forward and grabs my hand, shaking it hard. “No, no. That’s a deal. You got it. It’s yours.”

“It’s about time,” Etta complains as soon as I climb into her car.

“You could have gone ahead,” I grumble and buckle my seatbelt.

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting. I’m just dying to find out what’s up with you and Princess Elisabeth?”

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