Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Remembered in Music
Norah Rhodes remembered very little before noon.
Meline had learned that after two years of visits.
Morning belonged to confusion.
Afternoons sometimes belonged to memories.
Music belonged to neither.
Music existed somewhere separate.
The next day, Meline brought a small electric keyboard into Norah’s room.
Her mother was sitting near the window folding the same towel repeatedly.
“Look what I brought.”
Norah smiled.
“Are you starting lessons again?”
Meline swallowed.
“Maybe.”
“You were always talented.”
“Not as talented as you.”
Norah laughed.
“That’s because I practiced.”
Meline placed the keyboard on the table.
She played the first four measures.
Norah’s hands stopped.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you hear that?”
“You wrote it.”
Norah looked frightened.
“Mama?”
Norah stood abruptly.
“We shouldn’t be here.”
“We’re at Riverbend.”
“Elena said nobody could know.”
Meline’s heart began pounding.
“Know what?”
Norah looked toward the doorway.
“Close it.”
Meline did.
“Tell me about Elena.”
Norah pressed her fingers against her temples.
“Elena was kind.”
“I know.”
“She was afraid.”
“Of Victor?”
Norah’s eyes widened.
“How do you know his name?”
“You said it yesterday.”
Norah sat down.
“He smiled too much.”
Meline almost laughed at how ordinary that sounded.
But Norah’s fear was real.
“What did he do?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“I hate when people say that.”
Meline immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
Norah touched the keyboard.
“Play the bridge.”
Meline played.
Her mother listened.
Halfway through, Norah whispered:
“Blue envelope.”
“What?”
“Elena gave me a blue envelope.”
“Where is it?”
Norah shook her head.
“Too loud.”
“What was too loud?”
“The argument.”
“Between Elena and Victor?”
Norah’s eyes filled with tears.
“She said she knew.”
“Knew what?”
“He was stealing.”
Meline stopped playing.
“From Adrian?”
“From everyone.”
“What else?”
Norah’s breathing quickened.
“Mama, it’s okay.”
“Elena found numbers. Names. Payments.”
Meline’s pulse hammered.
“She was going to tell Adrian?”
Norah nodded.
“But Adrian loved Victor like a brother.”
Meline understood.
Elena had feared her husband might not believe her.
“What does the song have to do with it?”
Norah stared at the keys.
“Elena said Adrian remembers music better than words.”
“What does that mean?”
“She made me write something into it.”
Meline frowned.
“Into the composition?”
Norah nodded.
“A pattern.”
“What pattern?”
“I can’t…”
Her voice broke.
Meline immediately stopped questioning.
“Okay.”
Norah grabbed her wrist.
“The ending.”
“What about it?”
“Not in the room.”
“Where?”
“I gave it to…”
Her face twisted with effort.
“To who?”
Norah began crying.
“I forgot.”
Meline knelt beside her.
“It’s okay.”
“No.” Norah shook her head violently. “I promised.”
“Mama.”
“I promised Elena.”
Meline held her.
Her mother trembled.
Then she whispered:
“Little boy.”
Meline pulled back.
“What little boy?”
Norah looked suddenly peaceful.
“The boy who liked lemon cookies.”
Eli.
Meline’s breath caught.
“You gave Eli the last page?”
But Norah had already drifted elsewhere.
She looked at Meline and smiled.
“Are you staying for dinner?”
Meline sat motionless.
That evening she arrived at the estate early.
Adrian was waiting in the music room.
“So?”
“She remembered Elena.”
Adrian stood.
“And Victor?”
Meline told him everything.
The theft.
The argument.
The blue envelope.
The possibility that Norah had hidden information in the music.
Adrian said nothing for nearly a minute.
Then he pulled out his phone.
Meline grabbed his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Victor.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“You don’t give me orders.”
“If Victor betrayed you and Elena knew, calling him tells him we know.”
Adrian stared at her hand on his wrist.
Meline released him.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re right.”
The admission clearly cost him something.
Meline sat at the piano.
“What was he stealing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You own legitimate businesses.”
“Yes.”
“And illegal ones.”
Adrian looked at her.
“I didn’t ask for a confession.”
“Good.”
“Do you want my opinion?”
“Probably not.”
“You built a world where nobody tells you the truth because they’re afraid of you.”
His jaw tightened.
“Keep going.”
“So when the one person you trusted betrayed you, everyone around you probably assumed you already knew.”
Adrian stared.
“Twenty-six dollars an hour bought me this?”
“Five thousand dollars bought you premium honesty.”
For the first time in years, perhaps, Adrian laughed fully.
The sound stopped when Eli entered.
The boy carried something.
A small wooden music box.
Meline recognized it immediately.
Her mother owned one exactly like it.
“Where did you get that?”
“Mrs. Rhodes gave it to me.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“When?”
“The day before Mom died.”
The room became silent.
Eli placed the box on the piano.
“She told me not to open the bottom unless Mom asked.”
Adrian crouched.
“Did she?”
Eli shook his head.
“Then after Mom died, everybody was sad. I forgot.”
Meline picked up the box.
The base looked solid.
But when she pressed one corner, a thin panel shifted.
Inside was folded paper.
Blue.
Adrian inhaled sharply.
Meline removed it.
The envelope had Elena Vance’s handwriting across the front.
For Adrian. Only when you are ready to hear everything.
Adrian reached for it.
Then stopped.
His hand trembled.
Meline understood.
Three years.
Twenty therapists.
Thousands of sleepless nights.
And now the dead were speaking.
“Open it,” Eli whispered.
Adrian slowly broke the seal.
Inside was one sheet.
He read.
His face changed.
“What does it say?” Meline asked.
Adrian looked at her.
Then at Eli.
Finally he read aloud.
“If anything happens to me, Victor Hale is responsible.”
Eli’s face went white.
Meline felt cold all over.
There was more.
Adrian continued.
“He has been moving money and giving information to the Marconi organization. I found proof. Norah knows where.”
Adrian lowered the page.
His breathing became uneven.
Meline moved toward the piano.
But Adrian held up his hand.
“No.”
“You’re having an episode.”
“No music.”
“Adrian—”
“I need to feel this.”
His eyes burned.
“I spent three years blaming myself.”
Eli moved toward his father.
Adrian knelt and held him.
The boy buried his face against Adrian’s shoulder.
For the first time, Meline saw them not as a mafia boss and his heir.
Just a widower.
And a child.
Then the door opened.
Bennett entered quickly.
“Sir.”
Adrian looked up.
“What?”
“Victor Hale returned early.”
Every person in the room froze.
Bennett’s next words landed like a gunshot.
May you like
“He’s downstairs.”
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