saying, "Yes, sir, I'll still be in town."
"Good." Bernie clapped him on the back. "Maybe we'll give you a shave next time. Ladies prefer Cary Grant, not Paul Bunyan."
"I'll trust you on that, sir," he said as he left the shop. He walked down to the café, disappointed when Clara wasn't there. He got a cappuccino still and went to sit on the bench in the square.
He sat there, listening to his surroundings because he couldn't hear his heart. He picked up on the beat intrinsic to Bedford Falls, tapping his fingers on his leg as he called up a melody from his score. He was straining to feel it when he looked up and noticed Eleanor's daughter coming his way.
This time she headed straight for him. "Mom's acting weird," she said as she took a seat at the opposite end of the bench.
"All parents act weird from their children's point of view," he replied philosophically.
"Yeah, but she's acting weirder than usual." Lily studied him. "I think it's your fault."
Guilty as charged. He sipped his cappuccino, not feeling the need to reply.
"You've got Mom all worked up, with the remodeling and stuff."
It was fair play, because Eleanor had him all worked up too, just in a different way.
Lily pursed her purple-lipsticked lips. "She's never been like this, not even when she and Charles got divorced."
"You call your dad by his first name?"
She shrugged. "What do you call yours?"
"Dad."
"Kind of obvious, isn't it?" She looked around and then refocused on him. "So what's your story?"
"I'm here, working on composing some music."
"Are you famous?" she asked.
"Not really, but my younger sister is the lead singer for Wild Abandon."
"Seriously?" Lily sat up and looked at him like he'd finally proven he was worthy of her attention. "I wrote a story based on their song 'Time Stops'."
"Because you love words." He nodded. That was Carmen's best-selling hit so far and a pretty good song. "So you write, like your grandfather?"
Her face went blank. "I can't write like that."
This again. He wondered if Eleanor knew that her daughter had a block where writing was concerned. "Of course not. You have to write like yourself. I love Beethoven, but no matter how hard I try I'm not going to be able to make music like him."
"Hmm." She glanced over her shoulder at the street.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Max asked.
"My ride. There he is." She stood up, hiking her bag on her shoulder. She stared at him.
He looked for Eleanor in the teenager's face, but Lily didn't have the soft music of her mother. Somehow, he doubted she had much of her father in her either. He felt an odd strain of sympathy. Being a changeling was hard.
"I think having a dance school in the backyard is nuts," she said suddenly.
"Maybe your mom needs to go a little nuts," he countered.
" You think it's crazy too, obviously, since you stopped it."
He shook his head. "I didn't complain. My friend Liam did. I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't put out by the noise, but when a person wants something as bad as your mom wants that studio, it's never a bad idea."
Lily gave a doubted humph and then walked to the waiting car.
He watched her get in. The boy in the driver's seat smiled at her and waited until she put her seat belt on to drive off. They went in the opposite direction from home.
He wondered where they were going and if Eleanor knew about the boy.
Not that it was his problem. Not his circus, not his monkey, as his brother Johann always said.
His circus was currently a silent one that needed some music to bring it to life. Max got up from the bench to head home, feeling time pinch narrower as his deadline loomed.
Chapter 17
"We have a problem," Travis said the second Eleanor answered the phone.
"Not another one." She rubbed her forehead. "Will I need to sit down?"
"Maybe." He continued without preamble. "In order to get the complaint taken care of and a work order in place, I need to get a sign-off from the building inspector."
Maybe
"Good." Bernie clapped him on the back. "Maybe we'll give you a shave next time. Ladies prefer Cary Grant, not Paul Bunyan."
"I'll trust you on that, sir," he said as he left the shop. He walked down to the café, disappointed when Clara wasn't there. He got a cappuccino still and went to sit on the bench in the square.
He sat there, listening to his surroundings because he couldn't hear his heart. He picked up on the beat intrinsic to Bedford Falls, tapping his fingers on his leg as he called up a melody from his score. He was straining to feel it when he looked up and noticed Eleanor's daughter coming his way.
This time she headed straight for him. "Mom's acting weird," she said as she took a seat at the opposite end of the bench.
"All parents act weird from their children's point of view," he replied philosophically.
"Yeah, but she's acting weirder than usual." Lily studied him. "I think it's your fault."
Guilty as charged. He sipped his cappuccino, not feeling the need to reply.
"You've got Mom all worked up, with the remodeling and stuff."
It was fair play, because Eleanor had him all worked up too, just in a different way.
Lily pursed her purple-lipsticked lips. "She's never been like this, not even when she and Charles got divorced."
"You call your dad by his first name?"
She shrugged. "What do you call yours?"
"Dad."
"Kind of obvious, isn't it?" She looked around and then refocused on him. "So what's your story?"
"I'm here, working on composing some music."
"Are you famous?" she asked.
"Not really, but my younger sister is the lead singer for Wild Abandon."
"Seriously?" Lily sat up and looked at him like he'd finally proven he was worthy of her attention. "I wrote a story based on their song 'Time Stops'."
"Because you love words." He nodded. That was Carmen's best-selling hit so far and a pretty good song. "So you write, like your grandfather?"
Her face went blank. "I can't write like that."
This again. He wondered if Eleanor knew that her daughter had a block where writing was concerned. "Of course not. You have to write like yourself. I love Beethoven, but no matter how hard I try I'm not going to be able to make music like him."
"Hmm." She glanced over her shoulder at the street.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Max asked.
"My ride. There he is." She stood up, hiking her bag on her shoulder. She stared at him.
He looked for Eleanor in the teenager's face, but Lily didn't have the soft music of her mother. Somehow, he doubted she had much of her father in her either. He felt an odd strain of sympathy. Being a changeling was hard.
"I think having a dance school in the backyard is nuts," she said suddenly.
"Maybe your mom needs to go a little nuts," he countered.
" You think it's crazy too, obviously, since you stopped it."
He shook his head. "I didn't complain. My friend Liam did. I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't put out by the noise, but when a person wants something as bad as your mom wants that studio, it's never a bad idea."
Lily gave a doubted humph and then walked to the waiting car.
He watched her get in. The boy in the driver's seat smiled at her and waited until she put her seat belt on to drive off. They went in the opposite direction from home.
He wondered where they were going and if Eleanor knew about the boy.
Not that it was his problem. Not his circus, not his monkey, as his brother Johann always said.
His circus was currently a silent one that needed some music to bring it to life. Max got up from the bench to head home, feeling time pinch narrower as his deadline loomed.
Chapter 17
"We have a problem," Travis said the second Eleanor answered the phone.
"Not another one." She rubbed her forehead. "Will I need to sit down?"
"Maybe." He continued without preamble. "In order to get the complaint taken care of and a work order in place, I need to get a sign-off from the building inspector."
Maybe
Similar Books
