How Sweet It Is Read Online Free

I play someone’s song, I make it mine. I say it in my voice and express it with my emotions. When you fix furniture, you must copy what the original master did. It’s time for you to become the master, mon vieux .”
    “This argument again.” He smiled. “You know I’m not looking for riches.”
    “No, but you are looking for recognition.” Marcel’s gaze narrowed with cunning. “You cannot deny that you seek infamy.”
    He couldn’t deny it. The last thing his overbearing father had yelled as Finn had walked out the door twenty years before was that he’d never have money or respect. Finn didn’t want money—his family was corrupted by it the same way some families were corrupted by alcohol. Respect he would have though, if only to prove that his skills were worthy.
    Marcel pointed a long finger at him. “You’ll gain infamy through the stroke of your brush, not through fixing chairs.”
    Crossing his arms, Finn shook his head. “I won’t sell my art. You know I’m firm on this.”
    “Firm.” His friend waved dismissively. “All men know firm comes and goes.”
    He arched his brow.
    “Though you may not, because when did you have a woman last?”
    “I thought we were talking about art, not women.”
    “They are linked. Look at Picasso.” Marcel poked him in the chest. “You could surpass Picasso in all ways if you stopped being so stubborn.”
    Finn couldn’t help grinning. “Did you just compare me to a misogynist?”
    “You leave me no other options.” He held his hands up as though helpless. “You don’t love your wife, do you?”
    “I don’t have a wife.”
    “ Exactement! Why do you not have a wife?”
    He sighed. “Not this again.”
    “You’re wasting your life, mon vieux . It’s criminal for someone with your gifts not to paint all the time, and you should have a woman who loves you, and a family.”
    “The way you do?” he asked dryly.
    Marcel lifted a finger in the air. “I am a cautionary tale. Look at my wretched existence and do the opposite.”
    Finn pushed off the ledge and stood. “From where I stand, your life is fairly delightful. You have your music, no drama, and freedom. What could be better?”
    “Family. People to love. Someone to grow old with.” Marcel’s brows lowered into one bushy line. “You underestimate how important those things are until you’re older.”
    His uncle Henry had always told him that a soul was the only thing one needed in life, and that everything else came second. The soul was the thing to be safeguarded at all costs.
    Uncle Henry would know, too, considering his brother James, Finn’s father, had tried to steal his soul and sell it.
    “ Alors? ” Marcel said, gesturing with his hands. “You have nothing to say?”
    He knew better than to argue about this with his friend. They never got anywhere. It was worse than discussing politics. So he changed the subject. “How is Madame Janine?”
    Marcel both blushed and scowled. “That woman. She believes she owns me.”
    “She does own you.” She owned a restaurant up the street and her magret de canette held Marcel in thrall. “If you don’t want her to be possessive, don’t go to her restaurant. You let her feed you. You’ve become her stray.”
    “Because her duck …” Hand on his heart, Marcel sighed in deep pleasure. “Sometimes in the dark of night, I think I could marry her for that alone. Alas, I’m married to my music.”
    “Are you playing tonight?” Finn asked as he opened the door.
    “At Art Kfé.” Marcel grinned. “Claudette will be singing tonight, too. Shall I tell her you’ll be there?”
    “No.” Marcel liked to stir things up, especially on Finn’s behalf. Doubly so if pretty women were involved. Finn gave his friend a severe look, knowing it was useless. He closed the door on Marcel’s laughter, jogging down the worn stone steps to the ground floor.
    Going around to the store in front, he unlocked the metal gate and pushed it open. He