“Can you get me that scraper blade over there?” she said to Andrew.
“Yes, Mom,” Andrew said automatically.
His mother’s hands.
Andrew Matía had seen her hands shake nervously when speak ing to Mr. Zacatecas. He had watched them quiver when eating a burrito.
Yet, as those hands began scraping steel against spruce, he thought of something his mother had told him—that as a little girl, she would hear a music that no player could ever create, a music born not of composer, nor player, but of the hands of her grandfather at work.
But Andrew had never known Catalin Matía, and when he thought of his grandfather, all the sounds he remembered came from yelling and tools being thrown.
All the sounds he remembered were his mother cringing, apologizing, calling herself stupid when lunch wasn’t on time or when that bastard felt the shop was too dusty, too noisy, too empty, too full.
Even now, his mother would flinch whenever she heard an unexpected noise, or anyone entered the store.
Such things are music, too.
Yet now, his mother’s hands were a rich, seamless legato, with neither stutter nor apology.
“That’s better, isn’t it? But I think we can go a bit further,” she said to herself.
She removed a bit more wood, then a bit more. Then she paused.
“Gotcha,” she murmured.
She tapped the wood, and suddenly Andrew heard a ripple of color. And as the night grew dark, Andrew Matía’s heart began to fill with the rush of spruce, the flare of maple, the cadence of sandpaper and steel.
* * *
Katrina had never eaten veal before, but she had always imagined it breaded and fried. Here, however, it was stewed, with minced garlic and sliced mushrooms, all in a thick, buttery, cream-laden gravy. Miss Astrid said this was a family recipe, but Katrina had never known a family that ate food like this.
“I experimented a bit. I used winter melon from the Lieus. And usually, I would serve this with aubergines, but unfortunately they aren’t yet ready, and Miss Satomi wanted rice.”
Aubergines? Katrina perked up. She had no idea what aubergines were, but the word made her mouth water.
“So, Katrina, how did you like the Matías?” Shizuka asked.
“The Matías?” Astrid stopped, surprised. “The Matías took the job?”
“Of course. Lucía was fascinated by Katrina’s violin. By the way, this veal is wonderful.”
“Katrina, you’re very lucky. They are the best of the best,” Astrid said.
Katrina thought back to the neighborhood. An auto glass shop. Another auto glass shop. A nail salon. A sign store with all sorts of LED MASSAGE signs flashing in the window. And down the street was Starrgate Donut.
There was nothing quaint and picturesque about it.
“Miss Satomi, why is a violin shop like that … there?”
“Places like the Matías’ are usually out of the way,” Shizuka explained. “Many musicians like to keep their secrets.”
Something to ask about later, Katrina thought.
But for now, Katrina had more pressing matters. She had finished most of the winter melon, and half of the veal. She pushed some to the left, then to the right. She did not want to seem ungrateful; the food was delicious. But Miss Satomi was right—there was a lot of heavy cream in that gravy.
“That was wonderful,” Katrina finally said. “Thank you for the meal.”
She got up to leave, but Astrid stopped her.
“I have lemon tarts,” she said.
“Miss Satomi?” Katrina pleaded.
“I warned you to save room. Enjoy!” Shizuka made to get up. However, Astrid put her hand on her shoulder, as well.
“No, no. You too. We have so many lemons, after all.”
“From the Aguilars?”
“From the Aguilars.”
Finally, mercifully, dinner ended.
“Shall we get started?” Shizuka said.
Katrina washed up and went to the grand piano in the living room. It was immaculate, just as Katrina might have expected. Atop it was an old black-and-white picture of a young woman who Katrina felt she’d seen before, but could not quite place.
“Katrina? What are you doing?”
“But the piano is here?”
“That’s Astrid’s piano. Mine is downstairs.”
“Astrid’s piano?” Katrina stared at the picture. “Then that’s Miss Astrid?”
“Of course it is,” Miss Satomi said, as if the picture had been taken yesterday. “Now, come along.”