Free Five Days in Skye: A Novel by Carla Laureano

with James,” she said finally. “But it’s fine with me.”
    He nodded and turned his attention to his niece. “So, Em, I hear you’ve been taking piano lessons. Want to demonstrate?”
    Her face lit up, and she jumped to her feet, scattering seashells over the coffee table. Andrea leaped forward to scoop them up before they rolled off the table. Emmy skidded by on her way to the piano and shoved the fall board carelessly back from the keys with a thud. Andrea winced.
    “Come watch me, Andrea!”
    Serena held out her hands for the newly corralled seashells. Andrea stood and skirted the coffee table, smoothing the wrinkles from her slacks as she went. Emmy placed her hands awkwardly on the keys and began a halting rendition of “Ode to Joy,” her feet swinging beneath the piano bench as she played.
    When she finished, Ian and Serena clapped lightly. “Very nice,” Andrea said with a nod. “What else can you play?”
    “That’s it except for scales.” Emmy wrinkled her nose. “They’re boring.”
    Andrea smiled down at her. She remembered how she felt at her age, plodding away at simple sheet music. “I agree. But the more you learn, the more skills you have to make it interesting.”
    “Do you play, Andrea?” Serena asked.
    Her pulse sped up at the question. She could lie, of course, but after the woman had been so honest with her, it hardly seemed right. “Some.”
    “Play something, Andrea!” Emmy hopped off the bench to make room for her.
    She glanced between Serena and Ian. He lifted a shoulder. “You might as well. She’s not going to stop asking until you do.”
    Stupid, stupid, the voice in her head whispered. She didn’t play in public anymore. But “Ode to Joy” hardly qualified as playing, and the pleading look Emmy shot her made it hard to refuse.
    “All right.” Andrea pulled the bench farther back and settled herself so her feet comfortably touched the pedals. Then she placed her hands on the keys and began to play a very calm, respectable version of the choral piece.
    Emmy was right. It was boring. She glanced at the little girl’s unimpressed expression. Apparently, this sedate arrangement wasn’t enough to convince her that piano could be fun. Andrea bit her lip. Why not?
    She started into her own interpretation of the piece, upping the tempo, throwing in triplets and changing chords to arpeggios, playing with the notes around the central motif until it only barely resembled the original. A smile spread across her face, and she had to stifle a laugh. If this didn’t convince the little girl music could be fun, there wasn’t much else she could do.
    Suddenly, she realized the room had gone still and every eye was fixed on her. Ian stood to one side of the piano, Emmy backed up against him, her eyes wide and sparkling. Andrea broke off abruptly, and her smile faded.
    “Very impressive.”
    Andrea jerked her eyes toward the doorway where James leaned, a towel in his hand. His expression made her heart skip.
    She had to swallow before she could manage an answer. “I don’t play much anymore.”
    “You should,” Ian said quietly. “You’re very talented.”
    The brothers exchanged a glance above her head she didn’t understand. Whatever was behind the look, though, she knew she didn’t like being the object of it.

Chapter Eight
    James called the family to dinner while he set out the food on the small oak dining table, though he gave it only half a mind. Just when he thought Andrea couldn’t surprise him, she did something completely unexpected.
    Where had she learned to play piano like that? It wasn’t the playing of someone who merely remembered her childhood music lessons. The variations she had spun off Emmy’s simple melody had felt completely improvisational, and her smile hinted at pure, unabashed delight. It reminded him of how he felt when he had nothing to do but experiment in the kitchen, testing new recipes and trying out unusual flavors.
    Muriel had arranged