Page 133 of Share with Me

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Ivan said.

“Then you’ll be ready to play again when the SISO Hall opens in October.”

“They moved the date back?”Nice.That gave Ivan three extra months to get well.

Warren nodded. “Funding issue or something. When the hall is built, we’ll all be salaried.”

“Nice.”

“I hear there’s a delay too with the museum. It won’t open until next year.”

Ivan thought that the Sea Islands Museum of Musical Instruments had a nicer ring to it than the Coastal Georgia Music Museum. And it would have some Brooks’s violins on display unless Brinley changed her mind.

Brinley again.

Something inside Ivan gnawed at him, making that visceral connection between his feelings and his wrist. If he didn’t get back his old form, his violin career would be over, and he wouldn’t be able to support her, let alone a family.

Why am I thinking that?

“How’s that wrist?” Emmeline strutted toward them. Warren took the opportunity to leave. “Our Women’s Bible Study Group is praying for you.”

“Thanks, Em.”

“I heard that Brinley Brooks accepted Jesus. Have you asked her to join our Women’s Bible Study?”

“I’m sure that the pastor’s wife is on it.”

“You could still ask her, anyway.”

“I don’t want to pressure her, you know. She just got saved.”

Emmeline still stood there. “You two are serious?”

“We’re dating.”

“I heard she bought the Strad for you. Kind of ironic, isn’t it, that you can’t play any violin now?”

Emmeline’s words stung like those hornets he had run into playing in the backyard when he was a kid. “It was for charity to benefit historical preservation. People bid on many things. Last year it was an antique cabinet or something. This year it happened to be a musical instrument.”

“An instrument that happened to be a Stradivarius violin. Wonder who put it up for auction.”

“Em, I don’t care.” Ivan did remember that Brinley wasn’t the previous owner. That was good enough for him.

She wasn’t even supposed to be at the Oglethorpe Charity Dinner that December evening when she dropped over five million dollars on an old Stradivarius violin. She had only gone to the dinner on the behalf of her dad who had been out of the country at that time.

“You don’t have to defend her, Ivan. It is what it is. If you didn’t have the Strad, you wouldn’t have been robbed.”

“Are you saying that every violinist who owns a Strad will be robbed?”

“The probability is higher, don’t you think, than say a Guadagnini or your old Vuillaume or Suzuki or some cheap violin that the rest of us can afford, not that I need one since I play the harp.” Emmeline leaned on one leg. Her tight—very tight—pants showed all her curves.

Too bad her beauty is offset by that tongue.

“Enough, Em.” Ivan got off the stool.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“Help?”

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