Ghost Music Read Online Free PDF

very ladylike. Kind of forgetful. I mean, her mind wanders, doesn’t it? She asked me a couple of times if
I
was Jonathan Lugard.”
    Kate smiled, although she still didn’t turn around to look at me. “Her mind’s unraveling, yes. But she isn’t stupid. She can see things that nobody else can see.”
    â€œLike what, for instance?”
    But Kate didn’t answer me. Instead, she leaned over the dish with the tuna steaks in it, and sniffed them. “Are these what we’re having for lunch? They smell wonderfully fresh. It’s a good thing I didn’t bring Malkin.”
    â€œI bought them this morning, from The Two Brothers on Carmine Street. I saw you in the park.”
    Again, she didn’t answer, but walked into the living room, and started to look through my CD collection. I followed her, with my glass of Cuvée Napa in my hand, and watched her. I loved her profile, the tilt of her nose, and her very long eyelashes.
    â€œYou like Van Morrison?” she asked me. “‘Days Like This,’ that’s a really great song.”
    â€œI like just about everybody, almost. Classical, rock, you name it. All except for Tony Bennett.”
    She turned to me. “Why did you say that?”
    â€œBecause I don’t like Tony Bennett, that’s all. He brings me out in hives.”
    â€œVictor hero-worships Tony Bennett. Sometimes I used to think that Victor would like to
be
Tony Bennett. He’s always singing along.”
    I said nothing for nearly a minute, still watching Kate sort through my music. But then she held up a copy of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 and said, “I used to have this. I love it.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I asked her.
    â€œWhat do you mean, what’s going on?”
    â€œI mean, why are you here?”
    Kate looked bewildered. “Because you invited me for lunch. Did you think that I wasn’t going to come? Did you not
want
me to come?”
    â€œOf course I wanted you to come. It’s just that—I’m sorry.”
    â€œSorry for what?”
    â€œLast night. I couldn’t help hearing what was going on downstairs.”
    â€œOh.
That.
You don’t have to worry about that.”
    â€œI’m not. I mean, whatever you want to get up to, that’s your business. Here—let me make us some lunch.”
    She came up to me, very close. “You
do
like me?” she asked.
    â€œOf course I like you. I like you very much. I mean, I hardly know you, but somehow—”
    â€œDo you think that matters? That you hardly know me? I could come up here for lunch every day for a year, and the chances are that you still wouldn’t know me very much better. Victor and I, we got married in April 2002. He still doesn’t know what music I like or what perfume I wear or how much I love sunflowers.”
    I looked closely into her eyes. It was like looking out of a window on an overcast day.
    â€œSunflowers,” I repeated, and I laid my hand on her shoulder and kissed her. I had kissed women like that before, just becauseI felt like it, but I felt that Kate had been
expecting
me to do it. We kept our lips pressed together only for a moment, and neither of us closed our eyes, but when I stood up straight again, Kate was smiling at me with obvious pleasure.
    â€œTuna,” I told her.
    â€œMy God, Gideon Lake. You say the most romantic things.”
    â€œDon’t I just? But I have to sear the tuna. Otherwise lunch won’t be ready till suppertime.”
    She followed me into the kitchenette and stood close beside me as I took down my cast-iron skillet and put it onto the gas to heat up.
    â€œSing me something else you’ve written,” she urged me.
    â€œI’ll play you some more of my TV themes after lunch. You ever watch
Laurel Canyon
? I wrote the theme for
Laurel Canyon
. And
Foznick & Son
. . . you know that comedy with Sean MacReady? ‘Are