What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(5)
“Will do, sir,” she said. “Shall I take you back, then?”
“Oh, we can make it on our own. I want to stop by and say hi to a few people along the way.” He winked at the hostess, and by the way she grinned in return, I imagined he probably never went straight to his table.
I followed my uncle as he made his way inside the restaurant, and my breath caught at the sight of the large, elegant chandelier that hung as the centerpiece of the room. Thousands of crystals sparkled as the chandelier slowly rotated, taking a new shape with every second. The rest of the restaurant was hidden in deep, romantic shadows, the walls a plush maroon and the floors a beautifully stained chestnut wood. The light from the chandelier danced along that wood, the beams changing shape before they’d disappear into the darkness. It was absolutely mesmerizing, and I found myself staring up at the diamonds that seemed to drip down from the top of the chandelier.
I followed every bead of it until I found the other object centered in the heart of the restaurant.
The piano.
My uncle paused when I stopped walking, looking over his shoulder at me with a smile. “Ah, I see it didn’t take you long to find the main attraction, did it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, taking in the dark crown jewel mahogany, rich gold accents, and ivory keys. I didn’t even have to get close to know that piano cost at least fifty-thousand dollars.
Uncle Randall nodded. “It is, indeed. Just wait until you hear it played.”
My fingers itched to be the one playing it, though I couldn’t imagine sitting in the center of this packed restaurant of people paying more for their meal than I would spend on a car payment. The Kinky Starfish wasn’t just somewhere you went to eat — it was an all-night experience. There were four courses, spread out over the evening with the intent that you would eat slowly, enjoy great conversation with those at your table, and not just eat to get full — but to experience an unforgettable evening.
Your dinner was exquisite, your service the same, and the entertainment?
Well, it didn’t get much better than the infamous Reese Walker.
“When does he start?” I asked, eyes still wandering over the design of the piano. I noted the way the chandelier lights played off the keys, creating the most dreamy and romantic atmosphere.
“He’ll be here in about an hour, I’d imagine,” my uncle said, checking his watch. “Come on, let me introduce you to a few people before we sit down.”
My stomach flipped, excitement buzzing through me as we started walking again. I smiled and greeted the other patrons we passed as my uncle introduced me to everyone, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the piano. I couldn’t believe I would see Reese Walker play it in just one hour — and not online, but in real life.
And he’d agreed to work with me.
Me. The college dropout with a pipe dream about as possible as winning the lottery. I knew my uncle had connections, but when I asked him if it was possible, if I could take lessons with one of the most influential young pianists of my time, I figured there was absolutely no way. Reese Walker was a recluse, shut off from the music world once he left New York. Other than working with young students at Westchester and playing occasionally at The Kinky Starfish, he was out of commission.
How my uncle managed to rope a Juilliard graduate and piano legend into working with an absolute nobody was beyond me.
Then again, Reese Walker hadn’t exactly made the most of his talent. He was more known for getting into trouble than he was for anything else in the music world. Maybe that was why I’d thought of him when I realized I needed help overcoming my injury — because I saw something in him that I felt in myself. His relationship with the piano was tumultuous, and his career had been anything but traditional.
But I’d watched videos of him playing online. I’d seen the magical way his hands moved over those keys, the way his body bent with the music, the way his soul seeped into every note like his flesh was transparent.
I didn’t know why he wasn’t still playing in New York, claiming his spot in Carnegie Hall like he should have as soon as he graduated with his masters. I didn’t know why he was teaching at a prep school in Pennsylvania of all places. I also didn’t know why he looked absolutely miserable in every video that had been posted of him in the last two years.
But honestly, I didn’t care — as long as he could help me beat my injury and get my dream back on track. That’s what I needed from Reese Walker. Nothing more.
I wasn’t in Pennsylvania to make friends.
“Wine?” my uncle asked when we finally made it to the table.
I shook my head, unwrapping the light scarf around my neck and hanging it over the back of my chair. “I don’t drink.”
Uncle Randall smiled, but I noticed the tight edges of it. “Of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that just because you’re twenty-one now that you’d drink.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I used to, when I first turned twenty-one.” And before. “I just don’t like to have my judgment impaired.”
Uncle Randall smiled genuinely at that. “You are wise beyond your years, Sarah. And too smart for your own good.”
I returned his smile, but my thoughts ran away with me as we both glanced over the menu. I wondered how he saw me now, if he missed the young lady I used to be. I would have bet money that he wasn’t used to his sweet, bubbly niece being so short and direct. In fact, I’d thought both he and Aunt Betty were going to have to scrape their jaws off their front porch when I first arrived. I guess I should have warned them I’d changed a little since they’d seen me last summer — in the way of all my hair was gone now, and the dresses and skirts I used to live in had all been burnt — but I’d lost the desire to explain my actions or my appearance.