Page 232 of Share with Me

Ned raised a palm at him. “Ivan.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t question God’s provision. Just saythank you.”

Sigh.“Thank you.”

“In case you didn’t know, I give out scholarships all the time through my various foundations.”

“That’s generous of you, Ned.”

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy. I like my steak medium rare, please.”

“Taking orders.” Ivan finished his tea. As per usual, Ivan asked for a to-go cup filled with more tea for the walk back to the thrift shop and glanced at Ned’s iPhone. It was 1:35 p.m.

“Almost time for me to get back to work. Appreciate the lunch, sir. Thank you for getting my mind thinking through the fog.”

“One more thing.” Ned tented his fingers. “I have a special wedding gift for Brin. Maybe you can help me deliver it.”

“Anything for Brin.”

“Not sure if you can handle it.”

“Try me.”

“You need to do some things to make this happen.”

“Name them. I’m game.” Ivan wondered at his own words.

“How’s your therapy coming along?”

Ivan cringed. “Tough.”

Ned knotted his eyebrows. “My entire wedding gift depends on your wrist. You must get that wrist working again. Brin tells me you’re not able to do the vibrato yet.”

“No, sir.” Ivan turned his left wrist, palm up facing him. The pain was still there though not as much as two months before. The splint only masked it from the world. “My recovery is long and painful.”

“You have seven weeks to get well, son.”

That would lead us to early June when—

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask someone else, sir. I may never be able to play violin again. A left-hand violin, maybe.”

“No can do. This one requires a right-hand violinist. That’s the way it goes.”

“Tough, then.”

However, it gave Ivan an idea for a future angle in his music studio offerings. Hmm. Music therapy had never sounded this good. He checked off a few ideas in his head.Wow, Lord. Maybe there’s a new career for me yet.

“My daughter seems to think you’ll improving every day. Maybe you need some more motivation to get that wrist well.”

Ivan thought of Bach’sAir. That hadn’t been enough. What could possibly top that?

“Has Brinley taken you to the warehouse?” Ned asked.

“What warehouse?”

“Ah, she hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

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