the way, I think you should know that we have been making a recording of â¦â
âThatâs enough! I will do what you demand. Now, I want you out of here in five minutes. And donât you think that this matter will end here.â
âThat goes for us, too, Mister Rubai. Now if you will just allow us enough time to collect our ladies â¦â
âJust get the hell out of my house.â
It was ten minutes before Abel Rubai returned to the dining room to join his wife who was sitting stony-faced in her chair, sipping from a cup of cold coffee. She looked up as he came in.
âWhy, Abel?â
He was in no mood for gentle apologies.
âThose two snakes tricked you.â
âWhat are you talking about?â
Sally was hurt by the sharpness of his tone. She was bewildered by his reply, but it was obvious that he was deeply upset by something that had happened between him and the two lawyers who, minutes before, had swept in to collect their wives and bring to an abrupt end what had been, for her, a very pleasant reunion with an old friend.
âAbel, do we need to talk? What have I done to upset you?â
Abel pinched the top of his nose as he released a long, slow breath. In a matter of seconds his expression had changed dramatically. The old, familiar tenderness was back. He shifted a chair so that when he sat down he was able to look directly into her eyes and take her hand in his. He sensed that somewhere deep inside him a massive tension had been released.
âSally, we should have had this conversation a long time ago.â
Chapter Twelve
ebecca, Iâm so glad you could come.â âItâs nearly twenty times now. Papa brought me here for the first time when I was three. Mister Freddie was very old then. I remember him playing the piano under the tree next to the veranda. You and your mama were singing.â
âYou know Daddy hated to see the flower farms coming to the lake, but he would have been so sad to have seen all this terrible trouble at Londiani. He and Don McCall were good pals. They had their disagreements, but Don never failed to send us beautiful boxes of roses for birthdays and Christmas.â
âAh, hereâs Papa. Heâs the one who always packed those boxes. I helped sometimes.â
âMiss Mollie, no flowers this year. First time Londiani Farm has not sent something to help to decorate the stage for the music festival.â
âStephen, you two are here. Thatâs enough.â
Mollie Nash reached up to grasp Stephen Kamauâs broad shoulders and pull his face close to hers.
âI hear we nearly lost you. Please, forgive the tears. Every year you sing for us and every year, as I watch and listen, I think of those thousands of people in opera houses around the world who will never hear that glorious voice.â
âBut, Miss Mollie, youâve got Rebecca now. She, we owe you so much.â
âListen. I must have told you all this before, but I like repeating this story about the family. Father was barely out of school when he came over the mountains with Delamere all those years go. Saw our beautiful lake, fell in love with it and went back to Britain to find a woman ready to share this paradise. Not many living around these parts then, but ten noisy little Nashes soon changed all that.
âMama said, âFreddie, we could form a choir,â and Father said, âLizzie, we are going to have a festival, every year on your birthday.â
âI heard about this music making when I was a youngster living on the coast.â
Mollie hesitated about finishing her family story. She was the last survivor of the original Nash ten. The future of the festival was in good hands, but with each passing year, Mollie became very emotional about the past and about the chances of her surviving to see another one.
âIâve never told anyone this bit of the Nash saga. You were just eight, Rebecca. You had