“Now wait a minute!” Arry protested, leaning back in his chair. He looked Angara directly in the eye. “Nobody’s been troubling Miz Pio. Not me at least.” He shook his head. “We’re both troubled. We’ve lost a good friend. That’s what makes her sad.” He cradled his guitar against him. “Makes me sad.” He plucked a tune. Chords and single notes blended quietly together.
“Remember this one, Miz Pio?” He strummed a few bars, setting the rhythm of the song. “That one he said was about Mount Gumry. You sang it with him at the Seven Bells.” He watched as she tapped out the tempo with her fingers.
And then in a voice pitched soft and low she began to sing the familiar words of that old
song.