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Weird.
She returned her attention to the song and played the melody again, humming along until the final lines.
The lines she’d added.
“But it’s not things that she really needs. It’s the unspoken promise, the tender deeds that show her what she really means, baby, on the romance scale of devotion.”
She rested her hands in her lap. Applause broke out, along with a few whispers.
That’s her, right? It’s Harper Presley-Paige?
Yeah, she was livestreaming on LookyLoo.
She’d almost forgotten. She was famous—well, infamous.
“Harper, I recognize that song. Schuman, Tanner, and I watched you perform it on TV. You were playing the piano, and your husband was strumming a guitar.” Mrs. Sweet’s face lit up. She’d jumped in time to the present. “Congratulations on your new marriage,” she continued. “I can tell your husband adores you by how he looked at you while you were singing. Schuman tells me they call him the heartthrob. He’s quite dreamy, like my Shooey was back when we were young.”
Mr. Sweet blushed. “We showed Mary Jane the video on LookyLoo.”
“I had one of Tanner’s special lollipops that day. They open the mind,” the woman added.
Hell yes, they did.
“I feel you on that one, Mrs. Sweet,” she answered, then glanced at the small crowd in the lobby, continuing to film the moment.
Oddly, it didn’t bother her.
She wanted as many people as possible to experience the power of music.
What was music for if not to calm the soul, reset the mind, and help others exist beyond themselves and live, thrive, and reminisce in the measures of a song.
She’d done that for Mrs. Sweet. Her music had done that.
Mrs. Sweet sighed, then closed her eyes and yawned.
It was time to allow the woman to rest.
She slid off the bench and knelt next to Mrs. Sweet’s rocking chair. “We better be going, Mrs. Sweet. And you should put your feet up and relax after decorating those sugar cookies.”
The woman yawned again. “I am rather tired. But I need to tell you something, dear,” she said, clear-eyed and alert.
“You can tell me anything.”
“Your music touches people, Harper. Don’t let anyone dim your light. Your grandfather would want you to be true to yourself and your music.”
She stared at the woman, and her breath caught in her throat. “You’re right. He would.”
Mrs. Sweet gifted her with a weary grin. “I have done quite a bit of work today. I do believe a nap is in order.” She looked at her husband. “Shooey, you look like you could use some rest, too.”
Schuman nodded. “I’d like that, but first, I’d like to see Harper and her friends out. Tanner, would you walk your aunt to her room?”
Tanner helped Mrs. Sweet to her feet. They took a few steps, but Mrs. Sweet stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Harper Barbara?” the woman called.
“Yes?” she breathed.
Mrs. Sweet gestured to the floor by the rocker. “You dropped something, dear.”
It was the business card.
