Leanne

I hope Wilson can get whatever it was off his chest. I like his Mom. She loves him so much. I wish my mother would wrap me up in a hug like the one she gave him. And then the same for me even though I'm just his friend. Mom used to be like that. What's Willa like? Would she mind if I get my flute out? I guess I can try it and see.

"Is that yours?" Willa pointed to her instrument case.

"It is. I haven't played the piano since before I picked up the flute for the first time. The second I got the first sound out of it; I knew it was my instrument. The one made for me."

"I just play at the piano. Wilson could always sing, and he was just starting to learn the piano when Mom and Dad got the divorce."

"How did Wilson end up with his Dad?" Leanne asked.

"You know, I don't know. Mom came over here for a conference, and the Sorbonne medical school offered her a research position. Something to do with the psychology of sexuality. That's when the arguments between her and Dad started. And I'm sure something happened to him with work."

"So, his drinking and anger started all of a sudden?" Leanne found she was interested. She opened the case and started fitting her flute together.

"Yes, and somehow I blocked out what was happening at home. School was everything and Mom had this dream job offer. I was already fluent in French, and Mom picked it up inside of a couple of weeks. Wilson never had a head for it. I was in med school in Atlanta but transferred to Sorbonne. All I could think of was getting away from the arguments."

Leanne hit the middle C on the piano. "It sucks when your parents are fighting. I know. I don't blame you for getting away from it with your mother." She blew gently over the mouthpiece of her flute and then hit the C an octave higher. Her flute was in tune.

"That's different from the flutes in the marching bands in high school."

If she wants to change the subject, I don't mind.

"It's a classical instrument, for the more advanced musician. I want to study music, but I also want to write; words not music. Not sure which way I'll go. Do you mind if I practice a bit?"

"Go ahead, I love the sound of a flute. I can always pick it out of an orchestra or band. Didn't realize there were different ways of making them."

"The wooden ones have a certain tonal quality that is just better considering. There are gold plated ones too. The earliest ones were made of bone and one of the first ways primitive man made music after they discovered drums."

Leanne began with a quick C scale and lost herself in the basic warm up exercises. She picked up the pace of the notes as her fingers limbered up. The andante movement of the first Vivaldi concerto followed, and Leanne forgot where she was as she stood up to pace as she played. At home she couldn't walk, and she stopped in front of the orchid wall. As the last notes of the lyrically slow piece died, she looked up.

Her audience of three started clapping as Wilson and his mother emerged from the passage to the kitchen.

"That was amazing. You're really good." Elise continued over to the wall to stand beside her. "My flowers are going to love having you here."

"Thank you!" Leanne dropped a quick curtsy.

"Lunch is ready. Salad with smoked salmon. We can have a glass of Brut Rosé with it if you like, or there's juice and water in the fridge. We'll eat in the kitchen."

Leanne put her flute down on the music rack of the piano. "I'd like to play some more later."

"You're welcome to practice as much as you would like too. Wilson told me you're looking for music for tenor and flute."

"We are. Our teacher at school might know of some, but I'm going to search the internet. I might even consider looking into a jazz piece." Leanne ran her cleaning rod into the flute to soak up any moisture that might have collected inside. "Never pays to put an instrument down without cleaning it."

"I wish you were here earlier Mom. You should have heard the way the two of them were rocking out Chopsticks. Wilson has learned a lot. He's better than ever," Willa said.

"We were just having a bit of fun," Wilson said. "If we try it again later, it won't be the same either. That's the joy of spontaneous jazz jamming. I told you Leanne is special." He came over to the piano and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm nothing great," Leanne protested.

Wilson's mouth came down on hers, and she put her hands around his neck, pressing herself against him as her heart accelerated.

"Break it up, Wilson. The salad is going to wilt," Willa teased.

Leanne opened her eyes as his mouth pulled away. Staring into his eyes, she whispered, "Let's eat. I love smoked salmon, and a salad sounds really good."

"Do you want wine?" Elise asked.

"Sure. I want something with a story to it too. I wonder if there are vineyards around Paris. It would be fun to explore," Leanne answered.

"Mom, we had our very first alcohol on the flight over. An amazing champagne. No more than one glass because we agreed to that, but yes, I would love some wine. But I don't ever want to be like Dad."

"Come on then. The one we have is interesting, Wilson. Albrecht Brut Rosé comes from the Alsace region. The winery is one of the most respected in France." Elise led the way back to the kitchen.

Leanne sighed when she saw the salads. "This looks fabulous."

Six generous slices of smoked salmon on a bed of romaine, arugula, and endive on translucent porcelain plates sat along one edge of the kitchen island. There were cruets of vinaigrettes, one pale yellow, and the other deep burgundy.

"You shouldn't have gone through the trouble."

"No trouble. I'm so happy to have the two of you here. It's a dream come true for me. I thought I'd never see Wilson again, and that damn agreement he made with his father? Well, I'm grateful for his misguided intent, but Garret will pay for what he's done." Elise hugged her son. "Willa, will you do the honors and open the wine?"

"On it, Mom." She drew a bottle out of the cooler tucked under the counter beside the sink.

"A rosé? The champagne we had was one too," Leanne said.

Willa worked the cork from the bottle, as her mother opened one of the glass fronted cabinets withdrawing crystal goblets. When Leanne raised her eyebrow, Elise answered her unasked question.

"Wine doesn't have to be drunk from a traditional glass. There should be just enough in this bottle to give us each a nice portion in these." She placed one by each of the plates at the island.

"Pour please Willa."

"What a gorgeous color!" Leanne exclaimed.

"Wait till you taste it. Strawberries, apple, and the after taste is amazing," Willa said.

"Bubbles? Is it a champagne?" Wilson asked.

"No, see how fine they are. It's just a wine," his mother explained. "A toast. To my son, and his beautiful talented girlfriend. May this be the beginning of a wonderful time in your lives as you get to know each other and the joys of intimate relationships. Trust your instincts. It's all you need to know."

Willa winked at her and raised her glass to chime against Leanne's. "I think you might be the best thing that has happened to Wilson in a very long time."

"Cheers," Wilson said. "Because you're right, she's beyond words."

How much did he tell his mother? I hope she answered all his questions and told him what I already know. He's fine just the way he is. And if I'm the best thing that's happened to him, well, wow. I've had a crush on him for so long, it's still a dream.