Page 51 of House of Clouds


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“What would I sing?” asked Tom. His own tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his hands in his suit pants pockets.

“Wouldn’t you want to sing your father’s song?” asked Giancarlo. “Kate said you used to sing and play together.”

“He means ‘Rossetti Girl,’” said Stokey. “Ethan’s going to do it.”

“Yeah, he should,” said Tom. “Ethan would do a much better job than I could. It’s too low for me.” He turned to Kate. “You should do Mom’s part. You’d really rock it, especially the way you look right now.”

“Definitely,” said Stokey. He knocked fists with Tom. “Good thinking.”

“Are you up for it?” asked Ethan. “Don’t feel you have to.”

Tom studied her carefully. He put a hand on her shoulder. “For Dad. And Mom. You can do it.”

She shook her head, her stomach tightening. “I don’t know. I haven’t been up on stage for a long time. Not since…” She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

“I know,” he said to her, holding her gaze. “I know. How about this—we’ll do ‘Our House’ together. The two of us. We’ll do it before ‘Rossetti Girl.’ And if that goes all right, do the chorus of ‘Rossetti Girl’ with Ethan. You won’t be singing alone, and it won’t be any of your old songs. Only stuff from before. When we were young.”

“When we were young,” she echoed, nodding. She bit her lip. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“No pressure,” said Ethan, resting a hand lightly over hers. “You can bow out any time. I’ll cover it. Don’t worry.”

She gave him a grateful look. “Okay,” she said softly.

Giancarlo took her hand and pulled her forward, his arm slipping around her waist. “This is wonderful. I look forward to hearing mytesorosing.”

She glanced over at Ethan and then Tom. Ethan’s expression was unreadable, but Tom’s held a hint of impatience. She looked away. Phil and Stokey were discussing the re-order of the set list and drew Ethan into the conversation. She was grateful for that. She would rather not be in the spotlight at the moment.

“I’m just going to freshen up,” said Kate. She slipped from under Giancarlo’s hold and made her way to the ladies’ room.

* * *

The pile of food on her plate was random, and she honestly wasn’t sure how half of its contents had arrived there. Kate knew she’d been distracted by people coming up to her and speaking, and also by a general distraction she seemed to be suffering from since Tom had talked to her about the set list.

Even now, as she wound her way through the tables toward the one by the window that contained Giancarlo, who was still wearing his jacket, talking politely to a woman who might have been in Tom’s high school class. She was open and friendly, laughing a little, her short, dark, bobbed hair falling forward as she tried to manage her disintegrating taco.

Mrs. Cavatino grabbed Kate’s arm as she passed by her table. “Hon, it’s so good to see you. I’m so sorry about your dad. He was such a good man.”

She nodded, trying to smile, the now familiar phrases echoing through her head.

“Sit a moment,” said Mrs. Cavatino, pulling out the vacant chair next to her. “Don’s just gone for a second helping, so he won’t be back for ages.”

It was difficult to refuse. Mrs. Cavatino had been her third grade-teacher and had always doted on Kate, even before that. She’d been in school with Kate’s dad, and Kate had always suspected there’d been a secret crush in the past. Her dad had told her once she’d been in some kind of grunge band back in the late eighties, something Kate had found hard to believe then, let alone now, as she noted Mrs. Cavatino’s tired blonde hair, plump cheeks, dark turtleneck. and pants.

Kate took a seat reluctantly. This had been the third time since she’d started her journey to the food spread at the bar. She was grateful, in a way, that people wanted to share memories of her father as well as personally offer their condolences, but she wished it wasn’t today. Today she didn’t feel able to manage it.

Mrs. Cavatino patted her hand. “Look at you in your mother’s dress. You look so much like her. She was such a beauty.”

“Thanks,” said Kate looking down at her food, picking at the tortilla chips she’d spotted on her plate. She put one in her mouth and crunched down on it, the flavor filling her mouth. She was hungry, she realized.

“How are you?” asked Mrs. Cavatino, her eyes searching Kate’s face, her expression filled with kindness. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Every time I ran into your father, he had such exciting things to report. Imagine you, living in Italy. And an artist!”

Kate gave her a wan smile. “Yeah, I know.”

“I was only there once, with Don. We were part of a tour. We went to the south, mostly, where Don’s family is from. But we had a day in Rome and it was wonderful. All that history. You must love it.”

“Yes, it’s great.” That world and that Kate seemed so far removed from her at this moment, she could hardly believe it herself.

“So, who’s the handsome young man here with you? He looks Italian.”

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