Page 20 of The Perfect Guests
The visitor’s gaze left mine and jumped to Leonora, and I let out a shaky breath.I’m Nina,I reminded myself.He’s never met me before. Of course he’ll believe it.
“Ms. Averell.” His voice was silky smooth but not friendly. “You look remarkably well.”
Leonora stuttered something unintelligible, and I frowned, not understanding why his phrase had sounded like an insult rather than a compliment.
“And you—” Again, he stared right into me. “You are—?”
I steeled myself. “I’m Nina, sir.”
He raised his bushy eyebrows high, as if waiting for more, but then he turned to Markus and indicated the door to the drawing room. “Shall we?”
Leonora caught hold of my wrist as Markus and his father went into the room.
“We’ll make some tea,” she said, a little too loudly.
I followed her down the hall to the kitchen, my heart jumping uncomfortably. Had I done enough? Leonora pushed the kitchen door firmly shut behind us.
“You were perfect,” she said. “We’ll let them talk for a while; then we’ll take in the tea and cakes.”
When we eventually joined the men in the drawing room, they broke off their conversation, and the visitor gestured for me to approach him. Markus flashed me an encouraging smile.
“So,” the older man said, “tell me, Nina. Do you know who I am?”
I cleared my throat. “You’re my grandfather.”
“Hmm.” He studied me. “I hear you’re quite the musician. Is that right?”
This was a question I’d normally have been delighted to answer, but I felt a prickle of unease.
“Yes,” I said, “I suppose so.”
“Would you play for me now?” he asked.
Leonora was already carrying my violin case toward me.
“Okay,” I said. “If you like.”
I lifted out my violin and bow, and I took them across to the piano and struck an A, aware that all three adults were watching me intently. Usually, the act of tuning my instrument slid me into a calm, focused state, and I was desperate for that reassuring feeling now. I adjusted my bow slowly, waiting for the familiar scent of the resin to transport me back to my carefree childhood days, the way it normally did. But my heart continued to race, and I couldn’t shake the sensation of Markus’s father staring at me with those glittering eyes. I marched across to the black marble fireplace and positioned myself with my shoulder turned against him so that I didn’t have to see his expression while I played.
I began too fast, and I hurried through the piece, feeling increasingly resentful as my bewilderment about the situation swelled. It wasn’t a terrible performance, but it was nowhere near the best I could do, and by the time I reached the end, I was close to tears. I lowered my instrument and bow.
I don’t know what I expected—polite applause, perhaps. A condescending comment from the man I was trying so hard to fool. But when I reluctantly turned to face him again, I was horrified to see he was crying. Fat tears slid down his pale cheeks, and he gestured for me to sit next to him on the sofa. I desperately wanted to run from the room.
But Leonora spoke sharply. “Nina.”
It jolted me into action, and I forced myself to join him on the sofa. He placed one of his gnarly hands over mine and took a moment to compose himself.
“That was beautiful, my child.” He gave me a surprisingly gentle smile. “You remind me so much of your grandmother, Anneliese. She played the cello every day of her life up until she—” His face contorted briefly. “Well, up until she grew too weak to hold it upright anymore. I’ll tell you something else. She’d have been very proud of you.”
I pictured the old cello case leaning in the corner of Markus’s study, and I nodded mutely. But Nina’s grandfather seemed to be waiting for a proper reply, and when I glanced at Leonora and Markus, they, too, were watching me with expectant expressions.
“Thank you,” I managed to say.
At that, Markus’s father tightened his grip on my hand. “Tell me, Nina. How would you like to come and live in America with me?”
Leonora made a choking sound, and Markus caught hold of her arm. His father’s gaze was fixed on me, and either he didn’t notice Leonora’s reaction, or he chose to ignore it.
“There’s an excellent music school in my city,” he continued, “and lots of wonderful opportunities for a bright girl like you. You could live in a big, airy apartment, go out to fancy restaurants, see a different show every night of the week. How does that grab you?”
