Page 22 of The Ties That Bind
It was an extraordinary piece of art—one that belonged in a museum.
“I wonder what motivated him to create this?” Sir asked, his voice full of admiration as he stared at the mask.
Brie laughed with embarrassment. “I actually asked him what he did for a living, not realizing he was a world-renowned mask designer. Dante explained the process to me, as well as his need for inspiration. I have to assume this design came to him after he watched Alonzo’s first performance in America with me.”
Sir untied the mask to examine it more closely. “There’s something eerily familiar about it…” he muttered.
Brie tilted her head. “What do you mean, Sir?”
“These five notes. I feel as if I’ve heard this measure before, but I can’t place the song.” Sir handed Brie the mask and went to his music collection. After looking through it several times, he shook his head in frustration. “I thought my father played that song, but I have no recordings of it.”
Brie frowned. “How strange.”
“I suppose I must be mistaken.” Sir laughed, but he stared at the mask, clearly intrigued by those five notes.
Brie picked up the box, certain Dante had left a note. She spied a small silver envelope tucked inside. She immediately opened it, hoping it held the answer.
Mrs. Davis,
In honor of Alonzo Davis and the conversation we shared at Signore Mancini’s, I created this mask for you. It has been a long time since my muses have been so insistent. They completely consumed me.
It is my sincere hope that in the years to come, you and Sir Davis enjoy the mask you inspired.
With gratitude,
Dante
“He says nothing about the music,” Brie said as she handed the note to Sir.
He nodded while he read it. “My father had moments like Dante describes. When the music in his head had to find release and he’d spend days scribbling down the notes as they came to him.”
Glancing at Brie, he smiled. “It was a wondrous thing to watch. I’ve never experienced it myself—can’t really even comprehend it—but there was no doubt that other-worldly forces were involved whenever I watched my father during those times of inspiration.”
Brie was fascinated by the revelation. “I never knew that, Sir.”
He snorted. “Naturally, my mother didn’t care for it.”
“Why?”
“Papa ignored everything when it hit—including us. It was like he was possessed by the music playing in his head, and the only way to find release was by getting it down on paper. My father seemed completely consumed by it just like Dante describes.”
“Didn’t it bother you as a child?”
He shook his head, saying with pride in his voice, “It was part of him.”
This was something Sir had never shared with her. After hearing about this part of Sir’s childhood, Brie now had a deeper understanding of his father, Alonzo. He was not only a world-class violinist but an inspired composer.
Brie carefully placed the mask back in the box. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to accept such an extravagant gift.”
Sir surprised her when he said, “You must. This is an inspired piece. To return it would be a slap in the face for the artist who created it.”
“But it must be worth hundreds.”
He stared at the mask. “More like thousands, babygirl.”
Brie’s jaw dropped. “Why would he give it away?”
Sir looked at her thoughtfully. “I remember my father telling me about a song he composed for someone he thought highly of—he never mentioned who. After spending weeks working on that one song, he finally felt it was ready and sent the music to them. Papa said he knew in his soul he had created a masterpiece.”
