Free Keeping Time: A Novel by Stacey Mcglynn

their speed and touch, delighting in the miraculous sounds they produced. In love with his face—the knit brows, taut jaw, hair flung back off his forehead, penetrating eyes deep in concentration. All of it, all of him, channeling into deep, mysterious reservoirs of passion. For the music, for life, for her. When he played, Daisy could feel his every heartbeat merging with hers.
    Lifting her hand, running her fingers slowly over the keys. Paul had often suggested that the boys study piano, but she had always found a reason to dissuade him. She just couldn’t bear to see them tinkering with it. Couldn’t bear to have it have a place in her life or cause her to think about what could have been.
    Taking a deep breath, opening the shoe box. His handwriting, there. Until this moment she would not have been able to bring his handwriting to mind, but now that she saw it, she recognized it immediately. A nostalgic warmth passed through her, gazing into the box at the dozens of letters in there. She would read them all.
    Picking up the first one, relieved to see that it had a return address on it: Michael Baker, 11440 Second Street, Apt. 2, Brooklyn, New York.
    This was her starting point: step one in tracking him down.
    Gingerly opening the envelope, musty, threatening disintegration.
    tell her she couldexpectedulDaisy, reading—slowly at first, because they were just words, but as she continued, a certain rhythm, a particular way of speaking, an American accent, beginning to reawaken in her—the way he had called her Little Nugget.
    By the end of the third letter it was his voice, not hers, that she heard.
    DAISY, REREADING EACH LETTER TWICE, eighty-seven in all. Each one as well written and full of feeling as the others.
    Rereading the letters, an unreal experience. It was like a book, someone else’s life, someone she knew intimately. She was so absorbed by the letters that she almost didn’t hear the doorbell.
    Lenny. Lenny and Sarah. Lenny, throwing himself around Daisy, planting a heavy kiss on her cheek, saying, “We’re just coming from Dennis’s. He tells me you’re off to New York. Are you?”
    Daisy, laughing happily, stepping back to let them enter. A piece of her, still in the letters.
    “Come in,” Daisy, cheerily. “How about a nice hot cup of tea?”
    “No, thanks. We’re not going to stay long.” Following Daisy into the kitchen. “We just wanted to stop by, wish you well.”
    “Oh, have a quick cup. It won’t take long.” Daisy, putting the kettle on.
    Lenny and Sarah pulling out chairs, seating themselves at the table. “So what’s all this about New York?”
    Daisy, spilling everything, except anything about the watch.
    Lenny, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach, listening, smiling. “Maybe we’ll go too, someday, huh, Sarah?” Sarah, glowing at the thought, saying she’d love to. “You go lay out the groundwork, blaze the trail. Sarah and I can follow in your footsteps.”
    Daisy, smiling, studying Sarah. Delighted to take in her warm eyes and other features. Happy that this one seemed different in looks, in manner.
    Lenny, “And I hear that when you come back, this house might be sold.”
    The water, reaching its boiling point. The kettle, screeching. Daisy, jumping up, turning off the heat. Standing there, kettle in hand. Puzzled. “Who told you that?”
    “Dennis just did.” Lenny, pushing away the teacup she had laid out for him.
    Daisy, carefully pouring water into her cup. Sarah, waving a hand over her cup, saying, “No, thank you.” Daisy, returning the kettle to the stovetop. Asking, “Just now? What exactly did he say?”
    “He said you’ve signed the papers. The two of them are practically spending your profits already, about to close the deal on a house in Chessex as if you were already dead and gone.”
    Daisy, lips pressed together, staring at Lenny.
    “If I might say,” Sarah, speaking up, “it was his wife. It was Amanda who was doing all