“True.” Easton clinked my Corona with his. He sighed. “Then she fell in love with piano. And that was it.” He clicked his finger and thumb. “She was hooked. Never went anywhere without her little keyboard.” He huffed a laugh. “Gave me a headache for about two years before she got good enough that I could actually tolerate her playing. Then it was recital after recital.” His smile faded. He went quiet. Too quiet. The silence made me uneasy. “She’s good people. She’s my sister. But she’s more than that. She’s my best friend. Damn, she’s my moral compass. She keeps me in line.” He downed the rest
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