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Chapter 4 In a way it was difficult for all of us to move from our wonderful old, brown, shingled Victorian house into my grandparent’s great big place. I especially loved our own house’s round tower which, on the second floor, was where my mother had had her dressing room. I knew I would miss my best friend. She lived near me. Her Father owned a funeral home and she and I made it a habit to visit him every day after school. While she talked with her dad I went to the row of dead people, mostly older people, and touched each of them and wished them well. I’'d never been afraid, only pleased that I had a chance to tell the dead people that someone cared for them, that I cared for them. But now v my Grandmother was dead and moa a4 woas aarood my Grandpa needed us to move in with him. Maybe my Grandmother needed me to care about her also and I did. On the other hand, there were some things about the move that I especially liked. One of those things was the music room. I had more or less decided, even before we moved, to make the music room my own special place and no one in the family seemed to object when I announced slipped into one of mother’s dresses, the emerald satin one, to prepare for my first solo entry into the music room. The hem of the dress which would have been knee length on my mother, touched the floor around me. I stared at the silken folds of green about my ankles. I stared and couldn’t seem to pull my gaze from the gorgeous, shining, green. Green grass? Why was green satin making me think of grass? Something nagged at me, a memory that flickered into my mind and then left before I really caught it. My 30 THE MAN AT THE PIANO