He leaned on the duffel. “You know that’s not true. You made it to Concerto Finals at Leeds. You are, demonstrably, one of the best pianists of your generation.”
“Nonsense. I’m just valuable marriage material,” she said, scowling at the cartoon flowers on the bedspread. “I’m the only Hannover princess of my generation. For two generations, actually. My father only has a younger brother. No princessesin that generation at all. And I’maccomplishedat music and sports.”
Her sneer over the wordaccomplishedmade it clear that she thoughtaccomplishmentswere asinine. Dieter had heard heraccomplishmentsrant before. Useless things that royal and noble women toiled at but produced no real benefit to society or the Earth wereaccomplishments.Useful things wereskills.
“Flicka,” he said, keepinghis voice firm, “you were at the top of your class at the Royal Academy of Music. You received three offers from symphony orchestras to be a soloist, plus the Leeds finals. You know that you aren’t only a princess.”
“I haven’t even practiced for weeks,” she said. “I haven’t even run scales.”
“When I get back, we’ll see if we can find a piano for you. Maybe you can use this time while we’re inNevada as a sabbatical to work on your piano.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said.
Dieter suspected that she was scoffing at him. “We’ll pick this up when I get back,” he said, slinging the duffel onto his shoulder, “and I will be back. In the meantime,don’t leave this hotel room.”
