@maestrobenoitā
Holland led Nic into her fatherās office, the one heād turned into a make-shift at home studio back in the heyday of her career. The room was the cleanest it had been in months, finally organized, its shelves packed neatly, the floor spotless, the piano freshly tuned in the corner.Ā Sitting on the love seat were a trio of cardboard boxes, all full to the brim with books of sheet music.Ā
āHere -- you can -- you can look through it all, take whatever you want for yourself, too. I already have everything Iām going to keep, so this is all free rein. There are books in there going back to the forties,ā Holland said, huffing out a laugh.Ā āPretty sure some of it belonged to my grandfather. Some of it is just stuff my dad picked up. Thereās a lot in there I donāt recognize, I donāt know if itās any good.ā
āI mean -- I play my fair share, but thereās nothing I can do with all this. I donāt even have time to go through it, let alone learn it. So I thought, well, maybe Nic might want some of it. If not, we can just donate it to the library. What do you think?ā Holland asked, nudging one of the cardboard boxes. She looked at Nic, waiting for his say.Ā āIf you can even help me get it to the curb, Iāll buy you dinner.āĀ
