Read The Melody Lingers On for Free Online Page A

evening Katie sat cross-legged on Lane’s bed as Lane dressed for her dinner with Eric.
    “You look pretty, Mommy,” she observed. “I like it when you wear that dress.”
    Lane had planned to wear a black pantsuit but at the last moment had changed into a dark green wool dress that she knew brought out the highlights in her auburn hair. She had bought it on sale
in Bergdorf Goodman. Even on sale it had been pricey but she knew that it had the unmistakable combination of beautiful fabric and couture design.
    Katie’s comment made her pause as she snapped on the small diamond and emerald earrings that had been left to her by her grandmother. Why am I wearing this dress? she asked herself.
It’s just a casual dinner date.
    Eric Bennett’s image flashed in her mind. She liked the hint of gray in his hair, the hint of irony in his expression, the hint of sadness in his voice when he talked about his father.
    Katie’s voice broke into her reverie. “I like those earrings too, Mommy.”
    Lane laughed. “Thank you, Katie.” Daddy used to buy me play jewelry when I was Katie’s age, she thought. I loved to wear it and I shared it with my dolls. He would sing that
song to me . . . “Rings on her fingers . . . Bells on her toes . . . S he shall have music wherever she goes . . .”
    Katie is growing up without one single memory of her father.
    The buzz of the intercom from the lobby meant that Eric Bennett had arrived. “Send him up, please,” she directed the doorman.
    “Who is it?” Katie asked as she scrambled off the bed.
    “A friend of Mommy’s. His name is Mr. Bennett.”
    Eighty-year-old Wilma Potters, who lived in the building, was Katie’s favorite babysitter, as active and alert as someone half her age. She and Katie planned to make chocolate-chip cookies
and read a book until Katie’s bedtime. Wilma had gotten up to answer the door when Lane came into the living room.
    “I’ll get it, Wilma,” Lane said.
    The elevator was directly across from the apartment. She heard it whir to a stop but waited until the bell rang before she opened the door.
    Her first impression was that Eric Bennett was taller than she had realized. Not much but a little. Fleetingly she remembered that the boots she had been wearing that day had higher heels than
she liked. They had been an impulse buy.
    At first glance his expression seemed grave, but then his smile was warm. Their greetings of “Hello, Eric,” and “Hello, Lane,” were said simultaneously as he stepped into
the apartment.
    Katie had run up to stand by Lane. “I’m Katie Kurner,” she announced.
    “And I’m Eric Bennett.”
    “Hello, Eric. It’s nice to meet you,” Katie began.
    “Katie, what did I tell you?” Lane admonished her.
    “That I must call big people by their last names. I forgot.” She turned and pointed to Wilma Potters. “And this is my babysitter, Mrs. Potters. We’re going to bake
cookies now.”
    “Will you save one for me when I bring Mommy home after dinner?”
    “I’ll save you two,” Katie promised.
    After a kiss from Katie and an agreement that she would go to bed at eight thirty, they left the apartment. Three minutes later they were on the street and Eric was signaling for a cab. It was
five minutes before an empty one came by. “In the old days a car would have been waiting for us,” he said as he opened the door for her.
    “I can assure you that growing up I was not used to a chauffeur-driven car.” But you were, she thought, as Eric gave an address on Fifty-Sixth Street.
    “Have you been to Il Tinello?” he asked her.
    “Yes, I have,” Lane said quietly.
    “Then you know that it’s quiet and the northern Italian cuisine is delicious.”
    “Yes I do.”
    Why that place? Lane wondered. It had been where she and Ken went regularly during their courtship and in the brief year after they married.
    “Your Katie is delightful,” Eric was saying, “and she’s such a pretty little girl.”
    They were on