Chapter 5 - THE PIANO THAT REMEMBERED
“Then we need to get that piano,” Luca said.
Richard shook his head.
“Victor won't let you near it.”
Luca looked at him.
“I'm not asking his permission.”
I stepped between them.
“Then you're not taking Daniel.”
Luca stopped immediately.
“Sarah—”
“No. My son has already been frightened, humiliated, and dragged into something that began before he was born.”
Daniel sat quietly on the bench, watching our faces.
I lowered my voice.
“He's seven. He doesn't deserve this.”
Luca looked at him.
Then nodded.
“You're right.”
The simplicity of his answer surprised me.
I had expected an argument.
Instead, he turned toward Gabriel.
“Arrange a secure room for Sarah and Daniel. Two guards outside, no one inside unless Sarah approves.”
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, “I don't want my son living under guard.”
“I don't want that either.”
His voice softened.
“But until we know what Victor wants, I can't pretend your family isn't in danger.”
My family.
He said it so naturally.
And somehow that frightened me more than the security guards.
Richard approached.
“Luca, before you go to the warehouse, there's something you should understand.”
“What?”
“Your father didn't hide the original piano because of the cassette.”
“Then why?”
“Because the instrument itself was part of the ownership agreement.”
Luca frowned.
Richard explained.
“Anthony and Thomas agreed that no single document should establish Isabella's rights. There were too many ways for Victor to interfere. The original instrument held the location of a second set of records.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was tracing an imaginary keyboard against his knee.
“Grandpa always said music helps you remember,” I whispered.
Richard smiled sadly.
“He was right.”
Luca turned to me.
“Tell me everything Thomas said about that melody.”
I thought back to winter evenings in Ohio.
Grandpa would sit beside Daniel at our old upright piano.
He taught slowly, patiently, adjusting his position so my son could watch his fingers.
Sometimes Daniel couldn't hear every note clearly.
Grandpa would let him place a hand against the wood to feel the vibration.
“He said Little Lantern was about finding your way home,” I remembered.
Richard nodded.
“What else?”
I closed my eyes.
“Something about the last note never belonging to the song.”
Luca went still.
“What exactly?”
I swallowed.
“He said, ‘The last note belongs to the person waiting.’”
Richard gripped the edge of the table.
“Anthony used to say that.”
Luca looked toward the empty dining room.
For a moment, he seemed thirteen again.
A boy waiting for his father to return.
Then he straightened.
“Gabriel, get the car.”
An hour later, I stood at the window of a guest bedroom overlooking the mansion gardens.
Daniel had fallen asleep in a large bed beneath a soft blue blanket.
Mrs. Alvarez had brought him warm milk and a plate of cookies.
She'd also quietly placed a little stuffed bear beside his pillow.
I appreciated that more than I could explain.
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
“Sarah?”
I turned sharply.
“What do you want?”
She looked exhausted.
Without the confident smile she'd worn at dinner, she seemed younger.
“I wanted to apologize.”
I said nothing.
She stepped inside, then stopped when she saw my expression.
“I shouldn't have spoken to Daniel that way.”
“No, you shouldn't.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was he.”
She nodded.
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“My father told me that if Daniel ever played the melody in front of Luca, everything would unravel.”
I stared at her.
“You knew he could play it?”
“I heard him humming it in the kitchen two weeks ago.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I hoped he'd forget.”
I looked toward my sleeping son.
“He doesn't forget music.”
Vanessa watched him for a moment.
“Neither did Matthew.”
The room went quiet.
Then she reached into her evening bag.
I stiffened.
But she only removed a photograph.
A boy about fourteen stood beside a younger Vanessa.
He wore a navy sweater and held a small wooden toy airplane.
“My brother,” she whispered.
I studied the photograph.
The boy had kind eyes.
And beside him stood a man I recognized.
Victor Bellini.
His hand rested on Matthew's shoulder.
But Matthew wasn't smiling.
Vanessa pointed toward the background.
“Look behind them.”
I leaned closer.
A black grand piano stood against the wall.
On its side was an unusual silver inlay shaped like a lantern.
“Where was this taken?”
“At my father's warehouse office. The year Matthew died.”
I stared.
“You knew the piano was there?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell Luca?”
“Because I thought my father had destroyed it years ago.”
I looked at her.
“Then why are you showing me?”
She swallowed.
“Because there's something in that photograph I never understood.”
She turned it over.
Written in faded blue ink were three words.
Matthew knew first.
My chest tightened.
“Knew what?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Before I could respond, she added:
“My brother used to sit beside that piano, even after he stopped playing. He'd put his hand against the side and smile.”
I glanced at Daniel.
The same way Grandpa had taught him.
“Maybe he liked feeling the music,” I said.
Vanessa nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
Then her expression changed.
“But once, I saw him open something beneath the keyboard.”
I stood.
“Did he take anything?”
“A little envelope.”
“What happened to it?”
“He gave it to my mother.”
“Where is she?”
Vanessa looked away.
“She left my father the following year.”
“Can you contact her?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“She doesn't speak to us.”
I waited.
Finally, she whispered:
“Her name is Eleanor Bellini. She lives in Wisconsin.”
I held the photograph tighter.
“Then we need to talk to her.”
Vanessa nodded.
But before we could say anything else, Gabriel entered.
“Sarah, Mr. Moretti wants you downstairs.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is he all right?”
“Yes. But something happened at the warehouse.”
I looked toward Daniel.
Mrs. Alvarez appeared behind Gabriel.
“I'll stay with him.”
I hesitated.
Then followed Gabriel downstairs.
Luca stood in the study.
His suit jacket was missing.
A faint cut crossed his cheek.
But he was alive.
On the desk sat a small wooden music box.
Grandpa's.
I rushed forward.
“You found it?”
Luca nodded.
“Mercer left it behind when he realized we weren't going to negotiate.”
“Where's the piano?”
“Still at the warehouse. Victor's men were moving it when we arrived.”
I opened the music box.
The little gold bird sat beneath the lid.
I turned it toward the lamp.
Nothing happened.
Then I remembered Daniel's words.
The bird likes the window.
I carried the box toward the tall study window.
Moonlight fell across the lid.
A thin line appeared beneath the bird.
I pressed it.
A tiny compartment opened.
Inside lay a folded paper and a narrow silver bracelet.
The bracelet was small enough for a child.
Engraved inside were the words:
For Isabella, from Dad.
My eyes filled.
I unfolded the paper.
It contained five musical notes.
Four familiar ones.
And a fifth.
Luca stared.
“That's the missing note.”
Richard appeared behind him.
His expression changed when he saw the bracelet.
“Anthony gave Isabella that on her nineteenth birthday.”
I touched the engraving.
For the first time, I held something my grandfather hadn't invented or explained away.
Proof that my mother had been loved.
Then Luca examined the paper more closely.
“There are numbers beneath the notes.”
Richard leaned forward.
“Those aren't notes.”
“What are they?”
“Coordinates.”
Gabriel checked them against a map.
His expression sharpened.
“They point to a property near Lake Geneva.”
Vanessa entered behind us.
She saw the map.
Then the bracelet.
And whispered:
“That's where my mother lives.”
Luca looked up.
“Eleanor?”
Vanessa nodded slowly.
“Luca, there's something I haven't told you.”
I turned toward her.
She was shaking.
“When Matthew died, my mother didn't leave because of grief.”
“Why did she leave?” Luca asked.
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“Because she found something in my father's office.”
May you like
She looked directly at me.
“And she told me that one day a girl named Sarah would come looking for it.”
