A/N: My thank yous to Team Jazzward for your help with this chapter. xx

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, but if you're here, you knew that already. ;)

-FONO-

To say I'm intoxicated by the musical brilliance of Scott Joplin is an understatement. "Maple Leaf Rag" and "The Entertainer" are like no other. They are infectious compositions and a departure far from classical works or even John Philip Sousa's popular marching tempos.

For the first time in many years, my fingers ache with fatigue. With both pieces memorized sometime during the early morning hours, I labor lovingly over each rhythm, perfecting the creative genius behind these complex, harmonic schemes.

As day breaks outside the window, I hear Mrs. Cheney in the kitchen, preparing coffee, and no doubt, my next meal. I should have left for the city long before now, but I haven't been able to pull myself away from my piano.

Bella couldn't have possibly anticipated how much these two pieces of music would inspire me, but the fact that she had the foresight to share such masterpieces before her departure leaves me in awe of her musical proficiency.

Thoughts of her in other more womanly ways threaten to invade my mind, and that's when I know a break is long overdue as the smell of bacon wafts beyond the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cheney." I take a seat at the table where today's newspaper is waiting for my perusal.

"Good morning, Mister Edward. Can I get you some coffee? Your breakfast will be ready shortly."

"That would be great."

"I hope you don't mind eating with Ben. When I saw you were still here, I thought it would be nice to share a meal together."

"I don't mind at all. I hope that means you will join us too?"

"I would be delighted." She smiles, pouring me a cup of coffee and pausing, noticing the fatigue on my face. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I haven't tried. I've been awake all night."

"Are you composing again?"

"No. Yes. Well, not exactly. Those weren't mine, but did you hear them? Aren't they fantastic?"

"I believe I could hum those tunes all day long." She returns to the stovetop, lowering the temperature of the popping bacon.

"I agree. Before Bella left the Cullens' last night, she gave me copies of the sheet music as a parting gift. It was unexpected, and I had no idea how much I would love this style of music."

"Who's Bella?"

I fiddle nervously, tracing the handle of my cup with my thumb. "Uh . . . for the past few days, I've been working with a new singer at the club."

"And you like this Bella?"

After our conversation about Jane, I can see now Mrs. Cheney is ready to pounce on the possibility of someone new in my life, especially if that person is female.

"Well, of course I do."

Her face lights up with delight, but I backpedal instantly, not wanting to mislead her with the wrong idea, no matter how right it may be.

"I mean—everyone likes her. I'll be the first to admit she isn't the easiest performer to please. She had Mike running in circles all over town with her demands."

"But you like her," she concludes with a knowing grin. "And she knows the Cullens? What's her last name?"

"Swan." I blow on my steaming cup of coffee, taking a careful sip.

"Isabella Swan? The lovely young woman who sang at church yesterday?"

"Yes. I understand she made quite an impression on everyone."

"Her voice is like a breath of fresh air in springtime. You call her Bella?"

"I do." There's a slight thrill that passes through me knowing, after our limited time together, we are on a first name basis. I chuckle to myself, realizing I'm no different from starstruck Mary Alice.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but she's a beautiful woman."

Oh, I've noticed.

"You're right. Her presence on and off stage can attract a large crowd, but trust me, she has no interest in anyone, which includes me or losing focus at achieving her dreams."

"Mmm-hmm." Mrs. Cheney shakes her head, waving her hand in the direction of the parlor where my piano resides. "And she gave you this music?"

"Yes."

"How many other people did she leave with a parting gift?" She raises a curious eyebrow.

A bit of the wind goes out of my sails at that thought while my smile fades. "I have no idea—probably everyone in the band, if I had to guess."

"Don't be so sure."

"She said it was because I helped her out when the band's piano player became unavailable."

Mrs. Cheney nods. "It sounds as if she may know you better than you think, if she's shared something keeping you up all night."

I shrug. "Maybe, but I don't really know her at all."

"Are you certain about that?"

"How much can you really learn about someone in a week?"

"You'd be surprised."

The back door opens, and Mr. Cheney joins us in the kitchen, leaving his hat on one of the pegs next to the door.

He leans in to kiss Mrs. Cheney's cheek, which catches her off guard.

"Ben! I'm cooking."

His smile widens when he catches sight of me. "Good morning, Mister Edward."

"Good morning, Mr. Cheney."

"It's good to see you, my boy." He pats my shoulder and takes the seat across from mine as Mrs. Cheney pours him a cup of coffee. "How's life in the city?"

"You know—everyone's always in a rush. Life is busy. Everything looks great here."

"We're keeping it ready for you. Are you thinking of moving back?" he asks excitedly.

"No. Not yet anyway."

Mrs. Cheney sets two overflowing plates filled with eggs, bacon, and potatoes in front of us. She looks between our surprised faces at the feast.

"I probably made too much, but eat up, we don't want it to go to waste. You both need your strength. Oh! I forgot. The bread is almost ready too." She rushes toward the oven and removes the golden-brown biscuits.

"Thanks, Mrs. Cheney. Everything looks delicious. You've outdone yourself this morning."

"I've got to keep you healthy." She stands next to the icebox and pours three large glasses of orange juice.

Mr. Cheney and I learned long ago not to question her about something as simple as juice or her attention to our wellbeing. After Mother's and Father's passing, Mrs. Cheney hounded Dr. Cullen relentlessly, wanting to know what more we could have done to prevent their deaths.

No matter how many times he reassured her we did everything possible, she still maintained that their loss was a hardship I never should have endured. Dr. Cullen later recommended that we get our daily vitamins to ward off another bout of the flu. She took his advice to heart, and also concluded a full belly wouldn't hurt either.

"Mister Edward was telling me how he knows the woman who sang in church yesterday," Mrs. Cheney shares with a subtle smirk.

"Oh?" Mr. Cheney smiles.

"He had dinner at the Cullens' last night and she was there too—and left him a gift." She finally takes a seat next to us with her own plate and juice.

"It was just some sheet music. She's moving to New York and leaving this morning on the train."

"I see."

"Should we pray?" Mrs. Cheney asks.

Joining our hands, we bow our heads as Mr. Cheney's calm voice fills the room.

"Lord, thank you for the food before us, the family beside us, and the love between us. Amen."

"Amen," Mrs. Cheney and I repeat softly, but she gives my hand an extra squeeze before letting go.

We fall into a comfortable silence as we all dig into our delicious morning meals.

Mr. Cheney clears his throat, pausing between bites. "This woman is a musician like you? Are you thinking of moving to New York too?"

I shake my head. "No. I never considered it. There are plenty of opportunities for me to play in the city. Besides, my home is here in Chicago. I can't imagine ever leaving."

Mrs. Cheney brightens with my words, sitting a little taller in her spot. "That's good news, Mister Edward. Very good news. Now, don't forget to drink your juice."

A/N: With the last chapter's posting, I shared the two musical pieces Bella gave Edward by Scott Joplin in separate posts on my website, kayrichard dot com. If you aren't familiar with them, you can listen to "Maple Leaf Rag" and "The Entertainer" there. For comparison since Edward mentioned him this chapter, I'm also adding another post for one of John Philip Sousa's best known marches, "The Stars and Stripes Forever," which he wrote and composed in 1896, if you're interested.

Generally, in the 1920s, Americans ate very light breakfasts until a pioneer of public relations and propaganda, Edward Bernays, lobbied on behalf of a company looking to transition from packaging into food production. He persuaded over five thousand doctors to promote eating bacon and eggs, as a "healthy daily breakfast" in an effort to bolster sales. Similarly, breakfast cereal was invented by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg in 1894 to "save us." While convenient, his popular corn flakes cereal was to be consumed as part of puritan lifestyle that would suppress sexual desires, leading Americans away from a life of sin. Dr. Kellogg was trying to "save us" from the evils of self-pollution or masterbation, and who wouldn't follow doctor's orders? As Edward would say, clearly Dr. Kellogg never met Isabella Swan because some things just aren't possible. Lol ;)

Thank you for continuing to read and for sharing your thoughts each chapter. xx