CAROL put the last plate in the dishwasher, then went through the house, following the sound of music until she found Bobby and the girls. They were in what used to be the Westbury’s den, but now was some sort of music room.
Bobby had been busy over the past week. A piano stood in the corner where a large window replaced a wall once covered in bone colored wallpaper. In various cases and shelves along three of the walls, he opted to display different stringed instruments ranging from the antique to the ultra-modern. Framed photographs of Bobby with different famous people, including two presidents, intermingled with gold and platinum albums graced one wall. The carpet had been ripped out, and in its place was a gleaming hardwood floor.
He sat at the piano, silhouetted by the setting sun
