“Of course not,” he croaks back. “I’ve enjoyed…getting to know you. Good luck with your music.” He gives another smile, but it’s not the same as his usual smile.
It’s…polite.
I can’t bear this any longer. “Thank you, Oliver. You may go.” I turn away, frowning at the sheet of music in my hand—as though I can evenreadit at this moment.
But I can’t watch him leave.
“Goodbye, my lord,” I hear him say, and I hear the door closing after him.
I collapse at the writing desk and lean my head in my hands. Through sheer force of will, I stay seated where I am instead of running after him.
He’ll forget me soon enough, I tell myself.
And I’ll forget him.
CHAPTER23
Elliot
When I look up from my music, it’s already dusk outside the window. I’ve missed lunch.
Oh, dear. Oliver will be very cross.
That’s my first thought, quickly followed by another:No, he won’t be, because he’s gone.
The desolation that sweeps over me is unexpected, sharp, agonizing. I shove my score sheets aside, though I stop before they tumble onto the floor.
Endangering the work I’ve done today is out of the question. It’s been difficult enough to get this theme song done, and time is running very quicklyout. If I can’t getsomethingtogether for this production meeting, the contract—and more importantly, the payments—will be null and void.
And then I’ll lose Arden Hall on top of everything else.
Panic begins to rise, so I get up from the piano, ignoring the pains in my legs from having stayed seated in the same position for so long. If Oliver were here, he might draw me a bath before dinner, so that I could soak away the aches.
But he’s not here.
He’s gone back to hisreallife, and left me behind.
I could run the bath myself, of course. But I never seem to do it quite right. It’s either too hot or too lukewarm. I could call one of the other staff members… But the idea doesn’t sit well with me, making me frown at my own already-glowering reflection in the mirror across the room.
Instead, I stretch and hobble around until my toes have feeling back in them and the cricks are gone from my back. I am determined to keep my mind off Oliver.
He’s gone. I’m alone again, the way I have been these last five years. But thanks to Oliver, I have begun to let go of the past.
And thanks to Oliver, I have recovered my music.
* * *
At dinner, I try to behave in a manner befitting human company. I even succeed through most of it, to the extent that after dinner, when we have retired to the lounge, Niklaus asks if I’ll play for them again.
“Just floating the idea,” he adds. “We just enjoyed it so much the other night—”
“Of course,” I say. “The least I can do is sing for my supper.” Niklaus and Zee both laugh at that. Perhaps I’ve grown in the art of humor after all. I just wish I felt a little less hollow myself.
It’s only the three of us tonight. The staff is allowed to mingle only on particular occasions, and I find myself glad of that now.
I try out, for the first time, part of the theme song I’ve been engaged to compose. Niklaus looks impressed, and faintly relieved. I know he put his own reputation on the line when he recommended me for the film, and I’m pleased to see him relax once he hears it. The work is rather too simple for my tastes, but I’ve done my best to make it palatable for a wide audience.
“It’s not as complex as your usual work,” he says, incisive as always.
