If You Only Knew
Page 35
“I gave a concert at the elementary school. When the straight mothers and gay fathers saw how good-looking I am, not to mention how incredibly talented, they stampeded to my door.”
“And still I haven’t heard you play. I thought that was you, when Evander was playing.”
“I’m a better teacher than performer.”
“So you say. And yet you also claim to be incredibly talented.”
“All Juilliard students are incredibly talented, my dear. But we’re not all Emmanuel Ax, either.”
“Who’s that?”
“Get out.” He gives me that killer smile, and my heart moves in my chest.
“So what makes a kid like Evander so special, aside from clever fingers?”
Leo tilts his head and looks at me, and there it is, that irritating and wonderful tug of attraction. “Women sit in doorways to listen.” He grins. “There’s technical ability, which is easy enough to learn. Virtually anyone can become proficient if they’re dedicated enough. What you can’t teach is interpretation. How to express the notes, not just which keys to hit.”
“So when you were at Juilliard, did the great ones really stand out?”
“God, yes. All of us in the performance program grew up playing and listening. Being able to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is no big deal. But someone playing it so that it feels like you’ve never heard it before, so that great, overplayed warhorse fills you up with light... That’s greatness.”
“Ah. How poetic you are tonight.”
“It’s the wine. When you were at wedding dress school—”
“Parsons Institute of Design, thank you very much. The Juilliard of the design world.”
He raises an eyebrow. “When you were at Parsons, could you tell the great ones?”
I smile. “I see your point. Yes. The great ones made you gasp at how beautiful their pieces were.”
“So just as it takes more than understanding how to sew to be a great designer, it takes more than knowing how to play to be a great performer. Evander is eleven years old, but already he plays with his whole self. Most of my students sit there like lumps with arms, but he becomes part of the piano. Did you see how he touched it when he was done?”
“I did. Like it was his friend.”
Leo puts his feet on the coffee table. “Exactly.” He finishes his wine and pours more, looks at my glass to see if I need a refill. I don’t, since I haven’t chugged mine quite as fast as he’s done his. “Are you a great designer, Jenny?”
“Come by my shop and see for yourself.”
“Maybe I will.” His dog wanders over to him, curls his lip at me and sits at Leo’s feet.
“Did you visit your mom today?” It’s Sunday, after all.
“Yes.” His smile drops so suddenly it’s as if there’s a different person in his place, and the...the tragedy there causes dread to flash through me.
“How was that?”
“It wasn’t a good day,” he says, stroking Loki’s head and not looking at me. “She has dementia.”
“Oh, Leo, I’m sorry.”
He nods, his eyes still on the dog. “Thanks.”
“Do you have other family around?”
“No. I’m the only one.” He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just takes a sip of wine, his long fingers cradling the glass with unconscious grace. “She went downhill pretty fast and had to move into a facility. And that was...tough.”
“What about your dad?”
“Not in the picture.”
I’ve learned more about Leo in the past minute than I have in the past three weeks.
He sighs. “So now I’m the keeper of the memories. My... Our family, the people who died... Most of the time, she forgets that they even lived. And when she forgets, it’s like they’re a little more gone.” His eyes drop again to the dog, who looks up at him worshipfully.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again.
He nods, then suddenly sits up, all interest and energy. “So! You’re looking for a man, right?”
“Um...well, yes. I mean, yes, I would love to be married again. And have kids.”
“Why?”
“I just do, Leo.” I hate that question. Because I believe in love. Because I never saw myself not having children.
“So your sister’s husband is cheating on her, your own husband dumped you, your mom’s a lonely widow, but you believe in love with a capital L and hearts and butterflies.”
“Don’t forget bluebirds and rainbows. And yes, I do. It’s the cornerstone of my business.”
“I thought the cornerstone of your business would be bilking brides of every last dollar for a dress meant to make their friends jealous.”
“You’d be wrong.”
That smile flashes. “Want me to ask around? See if I can scare up a man for you?”
“You’re getting on my nerves now. And I don’t need your help. Believe it or not, men like me, Leo.”
“Oh, yeah? Anyone promising?”
“Yes. I have a date Tuesday, actually.” Before she was dealing with all her own crap, Rachel had fixed me up with a divorced dad whose son goes to the same nursery school as my nieces.
Leo sits back against the couch cushion. “Well. Make sure you report back to Uncle Leo. I want to hear all about it.” He winks.
“And still I haven’t heard you play. I thought that was you, when Evander was playing.”
“I’m a better teacher than performer.”
“So you say. And yet you also claim to be incredibly talented.”
“All Juilliard students are incredibly talented, my dear. But we’re not all Emmanuel Ax, either.”
“Who’s that?”
“Get out.” He gives me that killer smile, and my heart moves in my chest.
“So what makes a kid like Evander so special, aside from clever fingers?”
Leo tilts his head and looks at me, and there it is, that irritating and wonderful tug of attraction. “Women sit in doorways to listen.” He grins. “There’s technical ability, which is easy enough to learn. Virtually anyone can become proficient if they’re dedicated enough. What you can’t teach is interpretation. How to express the notes, not just which keys to hit.”
“So when you were at Juilliard, did the great ones really stand out?”
“God, yes. All of us in the performance program grew up playing and listening. Being able to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is no big deal. But someone playing it so that it feels like you’ve never heard it before, so that great, overplayed warhorse fills you up with light... That’s greatness.”
“Ah. How poetic you are tonight.”
“It’s the wine. When you were at wedding dress school—”
“Parsons Institute of Design, thank you very much. The Juilliard of the design world.”
He raises an eyebrow. “When you were at Parsons, could you tell the great ones?”
I smile. “I see your point. Yes. The great ones made you gasp at how beautiful their pieces were.”
“So just as it takes more than understanding how to sew to be a great designer, it takes more than knowing how to play to be a great performer. Evander is eleven years old, but already he plays with his whole self. Most of my students sit there like lumps with arms, but he becomes part of the piano. Did you see how he touched it when he was done?”
“I did. Like it was his friend.”
Leo puts his feet on the coffee table. “Exactly.” He finishes his wine and pours more, looks at my glass to see if I need a refill. I don’t, since I haven’t chugged mine quite as fast as he’s done his. “Are you a great designer, Jenny?”
“Come by my shop and see for yourself.”
“Maybe I will.” His dog wanders over to him, curls his lip at me and sits at Leo’s feet.
“Did you visit your mom today?” It’s Sunday, after all.
“Yes.” His smile drops so suddenly it’s as if there’s a different person in his place, and the...the tragedy there causes dread to flash through me.
“How was that?”
“It wasn’t a good day,” he says, stroking Loki’s head and not looking at me. “She has dementia.”
“Oh, Leo, I’m sorry.”
He nods, his eyes still on the dog. “Thanks.”
“Do you have other family around?”
“No. I’m the only one.” He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just takes a sip of wine, his long fingers cradling the glass with unconscious grace. “She went downhill pretty fast and had to move into a facility. And that was...tough.”
“What about your dad?”
“Not in the picture.”
I’ve learned more about Leo in the past minute than I have in the past three weeks.
He sighs. “So now I’m the keeper of the memories. My... Our family, the people who died... Most of the time, she forgets that they even lived. And when she forgets, it’s like they’re a little more gone.” His eyes drop again to the dog, who looks up at him worshipfully.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again.
He nods, then suddenly sits up, all interest and energy. “So! You’re looking for a man, right?”
“Um...well, yes. I mean, yes, I would love to be married again. And have kids.”
“Why?”
“I just do, Leo.” I hate that question. Because I believe in love. Because I never saw myself not having children.
“So your sister’s husband is cheating on her, your own husband dumped you, your mom’s a lonely widow, but you believe in love with a capital L and hearts and butterflies.”
“Don’t forget bluebirds and rainbows. And yes, I do. It’s the cornerstone of my business.”
“I thought the cornerstone of your business would be bilking brides of every last dollar for a dress meant to make their friends jealous.”
“You’d be wrong.”
That smile flashes. “Want me to ask around? See if I can scare up a man for you?”
“You’re getting on my nerves now. And I don’t need your help. Believe it or not, men like me, Leo.”
“Oh, yeah? Anyone promising?”
“Yes. I have a date Tuesday, actually.” Before she was dealing with all her own crap, Rachel had fixed me up with a divorced dad whose son goes to the same nursery school as my nieces.
Leo sits back against the couch cushion. “Well. Make sure you report back to Uncle Leo. I want to hear all about it.” He winks.
