“After the funeral yesterday I was looking forward to being left alone. I just finished cleaning up and was about to sit at the piano. I’m practicing Mozart’s C major variations for our next lesson.”
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star! So what’s stopping you?”
“I have a caller,” Monica answered, “a very important caller.”
“It is only I, dear pupil, your fairy piano teacher. Play away, shall we? Let’s have a contest. You play as many wrong notes as you can tolerate and I’ll try to make a different daffy face each time you miss a note.”
Monica laughed at him on their way back to the music room. They were like lovers, not two minutes in the parlor before heading to the back room – lovers of the piano, she reminded herself.
“Miss Killer Thumbs, I would like to hear the variations, but not as your teacher,” he said, a broad smile stretching across his face, “as your very old and very devoted friend.”
“Yes, indeed.” She sat at the piano and started into the variations, but did the repeats only for the main theme. She wanted to cover as much music as possible with Mr. Huxtable, and she didn’t have patience for repeats.
Mr. Huxtable stood by the piano and rolled his eyes to the back of his head and oinked like a pig. “You’re skipping the repeats. Mozart wrote them out in long hand. The least you can do is respect the cramps he got doing it.”
Monica stopped the music and slapped her hands on her thighs. “I’m the widow today, Mr. Huxtable. No repeats. Tomorrow you can be teacher again and do as many repeats as you like. I even have a black dress you may wear.”
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