"Hey, Mac? It's me, Casey!" Tess was holding a chord with her left hand and committing it to paper with her right when Casey bounced into the room, uninvited.
"Hi!" the girl said brightly, bringing Tess around on the piano bench.
She stood jauntily in the middle of the room, smiling. Her stable gear was gone and in its place clean blue jeans with a yellow cotton T-shirt tucked into her slim waist. Having left behind her cowboy clothes, she seemed also to have abandoned the bowlegged cowpoke attitude that went with them. Instead, she had adopted a young Debbie Reynolds perkiness. Come to think of it, the tilt of her nose, the hair in a single French braid, the wide, interested eyes slightly resembled the young ingenue.
"Heard you playing," she said.
"Working on a song that came into my head last night while I was in the bathtub."
"You mean writing it?"
"Yup."
"What's it about?"
"It's about what it feels like to come back here after being gone so long. The people in this town, my mother, this house." Tess gestured. "How nothing changes, including some things that really need to." She went on explaining some of the feelings she'd had since she'd been back and how she was trying to encapsulate them in the song.
"Can I hear it?"
Tess chuckled and scratched her head to give herself time to think up an answer. "Well, I don't usually play my stuff for people until after it's copyrighted and recorded."
"Oh, you mean like I might steal it or something."
Casey laughed, rolling up the left sleeve of her T-shirt. "Gee, that's a good one. You think I might be that good that I could actually do a thing like that? Not likely. Come on, let me hear it," she cajoled, flinging herself into an overstuffed chair and throwing a leg over its fat arm.
"It's not done yet."
"Who cares? Play what you've got."
Tess swung back to the piano, quite taken by the girl in spite of herself. She was approached by fans nearly every day, be it on the street, backstage or at public appearances. Most put her off either by displaying an overabundance of awe or prefacing their request for an autograph by admitting, "I don't own any of your records, but…" Casey Kronek did neither. She simply flopped down in a chair like a comfortable old buddy and said, "Come on, woman… cook." Why Tess did not bristle at the girl's familiarity she couldn't say, but there was a naturalness about Casey that fell just short of presumptuousness, and the proper amount of admiration held in reserve. The truth was, given Tess's busy life, she had few friends away from the music industry. This girl came on like one, and Tess bit.
"All right. This is what I've got so far."
She played the first three lines, tacked on the temporary fourth, then tried an optional fourth. It was easy to hear that neither worked.
"Play it again," Casey said.
Tess played and sang one more time.
One-way traffic crawlin' 'round a small town square,
Eighteen years've passed since she's been there,
Been around the world, now she's coming back…
"Wider-eyed and noting what this small town lacks," Casey added in a corduroy contralto voice that was dead on tune.
"Can't return. Too much learned."
The last two lines Casey had tacked on created a haunting afterthought that would echo at the end of each verse. Tess got shivers. She heard the accompaniment in her head, picked it out on the keys, closing her eyes and holding the last chord as it scintillated off into silence like lazy smoke around their heads.
The room remained silent for ten seconds.
Then Tess said, "Perfect."
"It's what you were talking about, isn't it? Seeing the town's deficits through the eyes of somebody who used to live there."
"Exactly. I love the refrain idea. It all works."
Tess leaned forward and wrote the words and melody line on the staff paper. When she finished, she set the pencil down on the music rack, and said, "Let's do it again."
While she sang, Casey sat in the overstuffed armchair with her left leg
"Hi!" the girl said brightly, bringing Tess around on the piano bench.
She stood jauntily in the middle of the room, smiling. Her stable gear was gone and in its place clean blue jeans with a yellow cotton T-shirt tucked into her slim waist. Having left behind her cowboy clothes, she seemed also to have abandoned the bowlegged cowpoke attitude that went with them. Instead, she had adopted a young Debbie Reynolds perkiness. Come to think of it, the tilt of her nose, the hair in a single French braid, the wide, interested eyes slightly resembled the young ingenue.
"Heard you playing," she said.
"Working on a song that came into my head last night while I was in the bathtub."
"You mean writing it?"
"Yup."
"What's it about?"
"It's about what it feels like to come back here after being gone so long. The people in this town, my mother, this house." Tess gestured. "How nothing changes, including some things that really need to." She went on explaining some of the feelings she'd had since she'd been back and how she was trying to encapsulate them in the song.
"Can I hear it?"
Tess chuckled and scratched her head to give herself time to think up an answer. "Well, I don't usually play my stuff for people until after it's copyrighted and recorded."
"Oh, you mean like I might steal it or something."
Casey laughed, rolling up the left sleeve of her T-shirt. "Gee, that's a good one. You think I might be that good that I could actually do a thing like that? Not likely. Come on, let me hear it," she cajoled, flinging herself into an overstuffed chair and throwing a leg over its fat arm.
"It's not done yet."
"Who cares? Play what you've got."
Tess swung back to the piano, quite taken by the girl in spite of herself. She was approached by fans nearly every day, be it on the street, backstage or at public appearances. Most put her off either by displaying an overabundance of awe or prefacing their request for an autograph by admitting, "I don't own any of your records, but…" Casey Kronek did neither. She simply flopped down in a chair like a comfortable old buddy and said, "Come on, woman… cook." Why Tess did not bristle at the girl's familiarity she couldn't say, but there was a naturalness about Casey that fell just short of presumptuousness, and the proper amount of admiration held in reserve. The truth was, given Tess's busy life, she had few friends away from the music industry. This girl came on like one, and Tess bit.
"All right. This is what I've got so far."
She played the first three lines, tacked on the temporary fourth, then tried an optional fourth. It was easy to hear that neither worked.
"Play it again," Casey said.
Tess played and sang one more time.
One-way traffic crawlin' 'round a small town square,
Eighteen years've passed since she's been there,
Been around the world, now she's coming back…
"Wider-eyed and noting what this small town lacks," Casey added in a corduroy contralto voice that was dead on tune.
"Can't return. Too much learned."
The last two lines Casey had tacked on created a haunting afterthought that would echo at the end of each verse. Tess got shivers. She heard the accompaniment in her head, picked it out on the keys, closing her eyes and holding the last chord as it scintillated off into silence like lazy smoke around their heads.
The room remained silent for ten seconds.
Then Tess said, "Perfect."
"It's what you were talking about, isn't it? Seeing the town's deficits through the eyes of somebody who used to live there."
"Exactly. I love the refrain idea. It all works."
Tess leaned forward and wrote the words and melody line on the staff paper. When she finished, she set the pencil down on the music rack, and said, "Let's do it again."
While she sang, Casey sat in the overstuffed armchair with her left leg
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