Jade had been working all week on that one song. It always seemed just a tweak away from what she wanted. But something about the chorus had stuck. And it was the chorus she needed to get right, because that’s what she’d started with—those secret words about Bryce. Emotions knotted together. But without a tune to support them they were nothing.
Around noon he popped his head in. He was her teacher, her mentor; more generous than other men she’d known. The care he took with her made age seem such a minor thing.
As he took a seat beside her on the piano stool she quickly shuffled her score, covering the chorus with the verse pages. But Bryce didn’t need the music. His office was next to the rehearsal room. He’d heard her struggling with the song for days. ‘Try this.’ He played, almost exactly as she had but with something extra in the arpeggio sections.
‘Turn them into triplets,’ he told her. ‘it only takes a note between to make the spark you’re after.’
(this is a reworked story based on An incomplete arpeggio, published on August 29, 2010. See about small stories about love)