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Updated: May 4, 2025
Long fingers wrapped around the neck of the banjo he was holding upright on his lap. "I'm Willow. I live up there in AhnRee's studio," She pointed up the mountain. "Ah, yes AhnRee. I'm Martin. Lower Byrdcliffe Road is just down at the end of the driveway." Willow couldn't decide whether he was shy or busy. He seemed to be telling her to hoof it.
There were many such houses hard to keep warm in the winter, but, AhnRee pointed out with a shrug, "If one is in San Miguel d'Allende . . . " "Mexico, right?" Willow asked Amber. "Right. I guess he goes there every winter." Amber had spent her time meeting people and going to parties. She already had one guy chasing her, showing up unannounced and hanging around.
"Amber said that you said I might use your piano some time." "Of course, Willow, of course. Amber told me that you were musical." He rubbed his stomach. "I am often out in the middle of the day. Just let yourself in." "Thanks, AhnRee. You are a sweetheart no matter what they say about you at the Museum of Modern Art." His face darkened. "Those idiots . . . " "Just kidding." She skipped away.
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