The Black Diamond Sonata

     Belldale, New Jersey

June 1907

Ben knew she was waiting. He could tell by the way his tall, large-boned sister rushed outside, gathering him into her arms.

"Ah, my dar-ling brother!" she cried, "It's been ages! Do come in!"

"Good afternoon to you, too, Ida," he chuckled, tipping his hat. She returned the favor, revealing flame-red hair twisted into a bun. He then sang, in his high, melodic countertenor: "I pray you are we-eeell!"

Ida smiled and nodded.

"You look well," she observed.

True, he figured. He was a tall, plump, middle-aged man with smooth brown hair and a small brown beard. Round spectacles magnified his small, hooded pale-blue eyes, unlike his younger sister's, which bulged as if they would fall from her head. They both had large, curved noses and small thin mouths, which surprised him, as he was not her twin-- rather Ada was. (But she was another story altogether....) He trudged into her parlor, which displayed her interior design expertise; plump scarlet chairs, rippling Impressionist paintings, and frilly lace doilies on gazelle-legged tables. Ida is such an artist-- decorating rooms for money!

Ida raised an eyebrow, tugging a lace doily from the table.

"Lace doesn't match this wood color, I fear," she muttered, "How that horse never matched Lady Godiva."

"Sort of how my voice doesn't match my body," chuckled the countertenor, patting his paunch and bottom.

"Now, now, Ben! Do tell me you're performing at the Metropolitan Opera!"

He blushed, smiling like he'd stolen a cookie from the jar.

"Ida Spinner Pumphrey, you know I'm not that good of a singer."

"Speaking of crowds," she said, "Perhaps Nadine would like to attend my lecture."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a slip of paper-- DECORATING FOR NEANDERTHALS a lecture by famed decorator IDA SPINNER PUMPHREY, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7th, 6:30 P.M. at the Cleopatra Library. Ben adjusted his glasses.

"You give lectures?"

"Of course!"

"Bet they get big audiences."

Ida swung one thick leg over the other, exposing a flat foot. She unleashed her infamous loud laugh-- where her soul manifested itself.

"Not as big as those boxing matches. Now that's a show!"

"Of course you think so, Sissy, with all those men!"

Ida punched the air.

"Big, manly men, indeed! Now, where is Nadine?"

"She's at the market, so she'll be a bit late."

"And what of your compositions, Sir Elgar?"

"I'm working on one. A good one this time. I swear I can hear it at night, but...I'm afraid talking about it could jinx it. You think Edgar Allan Poe talked about his stories? It's mad, absolutely mad. I call it-- the Black Diamond Sonata."