Chapter 13 - The Audition
Nora had spent thirteen years believing her life as a pianist was over.
The invitation frightened her more than Crane’s gun.
She almost did not go.
At eight the next morning, she sat at Margaret’s kitchen table in jeans and an old sweater while Daniel made coffee.
“You’re staring at the envelope.”
“I noticed.”
“You used to do that before competitions.”
“I used to be seventeen.”
Daniel sat across from her.
“You played in front of three hundred people after champagne was dumped on you.”
“That was anger.”
“Useful emotion.”
“I haven’t practiced professionally in years.”
“You played The Fifth Winter from memory.”
Nora looked at him.
“What if the gala was a fluke?”
“It wasn’t.”
“What if I go in there and prove everyone who rejected me was right?”
Daniel’s face softened.
“Nora, they didn’t reject your music. They rejected my scandal.”
“That feels worse.”
“I know.”
Lily entered wearing pajamas.
“If you don’t go, I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”
Margaret shouted from another room:
“I can hear you.”
Nora laughed.
It felt strange.
Good strange.
By ten, she stood inside the conservatory.
The same building where Shaw had held Lily.
The same building where Nora had once dreamed of becoming a concert pianist.
Julian waited inside the recital hall.
His arm remained in a sling.
“You came.”
“Apparently.”
He looked ashamed.
“I should have defended your father thirteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t undo it.”
“No.”
“But I can tell the truth publicly.”
Nora looked at him.
“Do that because it’s right. Not because you want me to forgive you.”
Julian nodded.
“Fair.”
The audition panel consisted of five musicians.
No millionaires.
No mafia.
No Celeste.
No cameras.
Just a piano.
For the first time since she was seventeen, Nora sat at an instrument because she wanted to.
“What will you play?” the chairwoman asked.
Nora thought of The Fifth Winter.
Then shook her head.
“Something else.”
She played one of Daniel’s unfinished compositions.
Simple.
Beautiful.
Human.
Halfway through, Nora began crying.
She did not stop playing.
When the final chord faded, nobody spoke for several seconds.
The chairwoman removed her glasses.
“Ms. Bennett, where has this piece been all these years?”
Nora smiled through tears.
“So have I.”
She was offered a place in the conservatory’s artist residency.
Full scholarship.
Performance stipend.
Housing support.
Nora stared at the letter.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
Outside, Luca waited near a black car.
Nora frowned.
“You followed me?”
“I drove you.”
“You could have left.”
“I could have.”
She held up the letter.
“I got in.”
For the first time she saw Luca Vale smile without calculation.
“I knew you would.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“You looked terrified when I started playing at the gala.”
“That was because you played four measures connected to my family’s criminal history.”
“Still counts.”
He laughed.
Their relationship had changed quietly.
Not romance yet.
Something more fragile.
Trust.
That afternoon, Luca brought Nora to the mansion.
Workers were dismantling the gala decorations.
The grand piano remained.
Nora touched its edge.
“This piano started everything.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
“What did?”
“Celeste spilling champagne.”
Nora laughed.
“She’ll love hearing that.”
Celeste entered behind them.
“I already hate it.”
Her bruised face was healing.
She held something.
Nora’s original brass name badge.
Bent from the fallen tray.
Celeste handed it over.
“I found it under the piano.”
Nora looked at the scratches on the back.
Those three musical notes.
“I didn’t scratch these.”
Luca frowned.
“Then who did?”
Nora turned the badge over.
Beneath the notes was something they had missed.
Tiny lettering.
Barely visible.
A date.
Tomorrow’s date.
And one location.
GRAND CENTRAL. 6:15.
May you like
Celeste whispered:
“Whoever marked that badge knew you would be at the gala.”
