The Display Room

[Administrator]

Here is the front end of the store where all the pretty expensive things are displayed to taunt you.

[elizabethmason]

Elizabeth descended the stairs from her apartment, her morning cup of tea in one hand, to open the store for the day. It was five minutes to nine and, though it felt early to her, she knew the people of the street had already been up and about for several hours. She opened the cash register and placed in it some of the money she had removed the night before; the same amount she always started the day with as change. That done, she left her tea on the counter to cool and moved about the shop, straightening this or dusting that, waiting for the clock to strike nine. As the grandfather clock in the corner rang out the hour, its Westminster chimes making her smile, Elizabeth unlocked the door. She propped it partially open with a doorstop, so people would be able to hear the music she played as they passed by. The air was a little chilly, but more refreshing than it was cold.

Drawing her shawl more tightly around herself, she stoked the fire in the coal stove that warmed her shop and then retrieved her tea from the counter. The Steinway Grand, her favorite piano, sat patiently by the large front window, waiting for her to bring it to life. Elizabeth set her cup of tea on a coaster by the music rack and placed her hands lovingly on the black and white keys. She began to play a song that described perfectly how she had been feeling lately; its melancholy notes drifting into the street as she poured herself into the piece. It was not for her that she played, but for all the children that no longer came to visit; all those who had been lost and those who had lost someone in The Battle. It seemed they had neither the time nor the heart for music these days and it made her heart hurt. She played for their loss and for the hope that they would one day return to her.

[Prince]

Prince didn't frequent Manhattan, unless she had a good reason. Given, it was quite cold out, but that was her reasoning for venturing to Manhattan. It had been a long time since she'd gone walking around New York City, and even longer since she'd headed to Manhattan without a real purpose. But she had to say, she missed it on occasion.

As she wandered down the street, just looking around at the buildings, the people, and the snow sticking to the lamp posts she began to hear piano music. For a second, she thought she'd lost her mind, but the more she walked, the louder it got, meaning someone was playing, but who? and where? Probably some rich person taking a piano lesson or something.

No... not that wasn't right, it was too good to be a piano lesson. Now she was curious, and headed towards the music. As it got louder and louder her steps quickened until she was almost running and then with a slip and a slight slide she landed just beside the door of Mason's Music. She didn't recognize the place really, of course, with all the time gone by, why should she?

She didn't go in. Instead, she leaned on the door frame. Listening. The music was beautiful. It sounded as though it was something her mother would have played, though she didn't recognize the piece. Rather than going in, she continued to lean where she was listening to the notes float through the air, and enjoying the beautiful melody. Something she hasn't heard for a while, well played, real, piano music.

[elizabethmason]

Elizabeth’s fingers continued to dance across the keys, light and effortless. Even as her thoughts began to drift away, she never once missed a note, proving without a doubt that practice really could make perfect. She smiled fondly as she remembered her dear great aunts, may they rest in peace, drilling that phrase into her head. If only they could see her now, what would they think? She often wondered things like this, alone in the world as she was, but the answers never came and likely never would. Elizabeth sighed and came back to the present as the last few notes of the song played out.

She took sips of her tea and watched people out the window as she mentally sifted through the stacks of sheet music in her head. There was a boy, she noticed, leaning against the doorframe of her shop, seemingly lost in the music that continued to play through his head though the keys were now silent. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face as she recognized the face underneath the newsie cap. Prince, the fearless Queens leader she had seen that night in the makeshift sick bay at Irving Hall. Though they never officially met, he had been there while she cleaned the wounds of some of his newsies and others had told her who he was.

Elizabeth knew he would probably not know who she was, but that didn’t matter. She was just glad to see him. Setting her tea back down on its coaster, she decided what song she would play. It was familiar to many who loved piano music and undoubtedly one of her favorites. As the opening notes softly filled the air, she called gently to the boy fixated outside her shop door, “You can come in if you would like to, love.”

[Prince]

the music was lovely and reminded her of home and of days... years long gone from her life span. People she'd never see again, and people she wished she could. She was so lost in the music that when it stopped... she didn't realize it. It was still echoing inside her brain, it wasn't until she heard someone speak that she came back to reality.

She shook her head slightly as if coming out of a dream and looked at Elizabeth's figure at the piano bench. So familiar to her mother it was almost eerie. She backed up a little, she hadn't realized she'd been spotted. Not that it was a bad thing, but Prince didn't trust most adults unless they proved themselves to be trust worthy and that took a long time.

But all the same, she couldn't help but want to go in. she did so, slowly into the shop sort of looking around cautiously as she did so. It was as though she was expecting a trap and warden Snyder to jump out at her any second, grab her with strong force, and cart her off to the refuge... or worse. She didn't really relax either as she entered the shop. She walked slowly but kept her eyes open as she very slowly headed for a chair that was sitting in the corner. With her back to the walls she'd be able to see anything that was coming at her, and wouldn't be surprised.

As she sat down she relaxed a little bit more and contented herself with listening to the music that Elizabeth played. Prince missed her Chopin pieces that she used to play, short little mazurkas that her mother had taught her started to spring to life in her head as she listened to the music. It was a lovely sound, and a lovely feeling. She stayed quiet however, not wanting to disturb her.

[elizabethmason]

She continued to play as Prince came in and sat down, closing his eyes as he listened in silence. It was quite apparent to Elizabeth that this boy loved the piano, it was written all over his face and in the way he sat. She wondered if he had any formal training and, if so, where he had received it. Everyone who loved music had a reason why, a story behind the passion, and, next to Austen and Dickens, it was these stories she loved best.

Unfortunately, to ask for that story would be prying beyond what she knew these street kids were comfortable with, so she held her tongue and simply played the song to its close. Her hands went again to her teacup and she sipped daintily, just as she had been raised to do. Elizabeth looked over at Prince again, a warm smile upon her face. "Would you like to give her a go?" she nodded toward the piano she was sitting at, with a questioning raise for her eyebrows.

[Prince]

Prince slumped back in the chair and relaxed a little as the music played. It was easier for her to stay calm listening to the romantic style of classical music that floated through the air. She kicked her feet out in front of her and crossed them on the ground. She folded her arms, so she looked rather unhappy to be sitting there if you just looked at her body. But her face was calm and contented, and even happy, so it was a bit more obvious that she was there by choice.

When asked if she'd be interested in playing herself she looked up at Elizabeth. Without really saying much of anything she looked down at her ink-stained hands and then over at the piano. The woman had good intentions, but she'd probably be angrier than a mother bear if Prince got news paper ink all over the pretty white keys. Well, the least she could do was try to get it off. She rubbed her hands on her pants and tried to get some off, but it didn't work all that well...

She smiled slightly at Elizabeth, sort of thanking her for asking but then shook her head no. Though if she had been watching it was possible for her to guess why Prince was turning down the invitation. As much as she missed playing the piano, she probably wasn't good at it anymore anyway. It had been a long time since she'd played those old songs. They were probably all forgotten in her fingers long ago anyhow. It wouldn't sound good now if she tried, right? All the same, she still sort of wished she could.