Bittersweet by Elisabeth Roseland

Author:Elisabeth Roseland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2014-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

“You have a nice place,” Derrick said as the three of them exited the kitchen through a heavy wooden swinging door. The house appeared to have a lot of character, but it was difficult for him to see in the dim light. “Can we turn these lights on?”

“Sure.”

Derrick flipped the light switch and the chandelier glowed to life. Several bulbs were burned out, but it still hung elegantly in the center of the formal dining room. “How old is this house?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

The wood of the crown moldings matched the door they had come through. A radiator stood in the corner, the hardwood by its feet warped and stained. “What would you say, Dre? 1940s?”

“At least.” Andre’s eyes scanned the room. “It’s got some features of a historic bungalow—the three bay windows, the red brick outside—but it’s two stories. That makes it unique. So it may even date back to the early twenties.”

Carla turned to Derrick. “How does he know all this?”

“He’s the smart one.”

Andre ran his fingers along the windowsill. “Not really. I’ve been doing a little research on Chicago neighborhoods and architecture. We’d like to buy a house one day.”

“Really?”

“Oh, most definitely,” said Derrick. “The apartment we live in now is way too small for two people.”

Against the wall was a large cabinet with glass doors. Knickknacks were scattered haphazardly on the top two shelves, but it was the first shelf that caught Derrick’s attention.

“No way. Can I open this?”

“Sure.”

He carefully pulled on the handles, and the doors parted with a slight click. On the first shelf, packed tightly together, were dozens of records. “Are these yours?”

“No. Those were my dad’s.”

Derrick thumbed through the albums. It was an eclectic mix—some country, jazz, even classical. “I have a half brother who’s about ten years old than me. He collects records. There used to be this place in Hyde Park he would go to…um…Wax something or other. Anytime he had some money, he’d go there to buy a record. I’d go with him sometimes.” Familiar lettering peeked out from between two albums. He pulled out the record. “Hey. My brother had this one. It’s a classic.”

“What is it?” Andre asked. Derrick turned and showed it to him. “That is a classic. Do you have a record player?”

Carla gestured to the living room. “In there. But I don’t know if it still works.”

Derrick twirled the album in his hands. “Let’s try it out.”

After plugging it in and pressing a few buttons, the turntable slowly spun. Derrick lowered the record and carefully placed the needle on top of it. After a few seconds of silence, a scratchy piano riff filled the room, quickly followed by Ray Charles’s soulful voice. The song reached down into Derrick, touching his heart and causing his feet to move. He grabbed Carla, and she squealed when he pulled her to him, stepping on his foot.

“Sorry. I can’t dance.”

“That’s okay. It’s easy. I’ll show you.” Derrick held her hand in his and slipped the other around her waist as he rocked her back and forth in time to the music.

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