“Over the top of the baby grand, I saw a woman come in, sit at the bar. The same one who’d been in here last night. Dressed in white. A long, full-length gown, more like a robe really, with a scarf or something covering her head. Thin. Like an apparition. Or maybe she’d been cloistered all her life.
“I segued into “Summertime.” Allegretto semplice.
“I should have dedicated it to Virginia Murphy, the woman in white. Somehow I knew I hadn’t seen the last of her.”