*** Dancing on a Purple Cloud *** (Complete)

Chapter 4 - Dinner can wait!

-« Good evening, Miss Carla » His valet welcomed me helping me out of the car.
-« Charles, watch out now, that's my date! » He winked.
He came around, took me by the hand,  led me to the foyer, stopped right in the middle of it and turned around to face me.
- « Are you thirsty? What would you like to drink? » He questioned in his lowest voice.
- « I'll have whatever you're having » I replied vaguely still looking around astonished by every pieces of furniture around us.
-« All right...James, please...Bring our drinks! » He snapped loud enough and got all my attention again.
-« Two glasses of « Montbazillac - Cuvée " Madame" 2001 . » James presented us a tandem of huge glasses of wine on a silver tray.
My host offered me a glass, lifted his drink up and invited me to cheer with him.
- « Santé ! » He chanted
- « San...té » I echoed surprised by his sudden change of language.
It was getting quite chilly due to the double back door opened on his private backyard and a land breeze which had just rose. I suddenly felt a warm presence right behind me while I was still holding my glass of wine.
-«How do you like the view?» He whispered in my left ear.
Goosebumps came over the back of my neck all the way down to my spine. I turned around with a slight shaky movement and looked for him.
I finally heard his voice coming from upstairs but I could not see him.
- « Make yourself comfortable, just don't break anything, will you ? I' ll be down in a minute. »

I noticed a beautiful acoustic guitar in the corner. This place had many huge rooms and each one had there own distinctive style. I could hear music coming from somewhere upstairs but I didn't want to trespass the bottom of the stairs. I adjusted my shawl, put down my purse and waited patiently on the long white couch. Just as I was really wondering if he ever was going to appear again, his valet came to get me and guided me to his personal music studio located on the lower level.
As soon as I entered, I sat down as requested and waited there a few minutes. While I was sipping the last drops of my glass of wine, I suddenly heard his voice coming through the speakers. I put down my glasses slowly on the side table.
- « Can you hear me? » he asked with a vibrating timbre.
- « Yes! » I said happily.
- « Can you see me? » he quizzed.
- « No!? » I snickered.
-« Good! » He marked his voice with a low tone and I heard him starting to play the piano.

The way he played that piece was so intense and sharp that it brought me all the way back to my childhood in the south when my grand-father was playing his favorite classical piano pieces on his vinyl system. I remembered staying long fall evenings sitting on the porch, cuddling with my grand-mother, drinking herbal tea and honey with a warm crocheted blanket on our laps while my grand-father shared how he imagined the lives of those authentic classical musicians. Each piece of music told a very distinctive story. The artist was a story teller and by playing he could bring you joy or sadness just by hitting those notes.