He ran his graceful-looking fingers over the strings and quickly adjusted the tuning. Suvi had time to notice that his fingernails seemed quite clean for someone who worked on engines for a living.
“Mind if I have a go?”
She waved her hand casually, not expecting much. “Be my guest.”
When she had been in practice, Suvi was a mediocre player at best, but it soon became clear that Tom Finn could coax astonishing sound from the fourteen strings of the yitar. She listened entranced, as his fingers fairly flew on the fret board, in waves of double and triple harmonies. Suvi couldn’t help thinking it was a very odd talent for a Rose.
She nonetheless applauded wildly when he finished. “You must come back for the banquet on Friday. There is entertainment afterwards. Would you play? The childre
