“Of course.” Maida laughed. “I’ve always wondered what the inside looked like. I must say it’s nicer than I imagined.”
Drayco gestured around the hall. “Virtually the same as it was half a century ago, with faded makeup and a few wrinkles. You were expecting cobwebs?”
“Worse. Spooky sheets, a few mice and dust everywhere. You didn’t have to stop playing. Was that Bach?”
“The Goldberg Variations.”
“You’re good, you know.”
He grinned. “You sound surprised.”
She whisked the Nationals baseball cap off her head and ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean it that way. I thought with your injury, you couldn’t play much.”
“Not enough to have a piano career. Too many hours of practice. But I can play in small bursts.”
Maida circled the bottom of the stage to sit in the front row. “How m
