but she didn't come to look out. Maybe she wasn't there. There were no thoughts to hear.
It made me sad that I couldn't hear enough even to check on her - to make sure she was happy, or safe, at the least.
Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.
Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards - spread out along the glass back wall - and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn't let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore. Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear her monitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Rosalie's wardrobe, but Rosalie did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and color as Alice's hand traced over the touch sensitive screens (Carlisle and I had had to tweak that system a bit, given that most such screens responded to temperature). Instead, today Rosalie sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear her trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune her BMW again.
Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.
Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Emmett's next moves - Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her - to Jasper, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett's favorite knight.
And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway.
I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect. Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side.
I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today, pleased that it sounded even better than I'd imagined.
Edward is playing again, Esme thought joyously, a smile breaking across her face. She got up from her desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs. I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.
Esme sighed with contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned her head against the banister. A new song. It's been so long. What a lovely tune.
I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.
Edward is composing again? Rosalie thought, and her teeth clenched together in fierce resentment.
In that moment, she slipped, and I could read all her underlying outrage. I saw why she was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Isabella Swan had not bothered her conscience at all.
With Rosalie, it was always about vanity.
The music came to an abrupt halt, and I laughed before I could help myself, a sharp bark of amusement that broke off quickly as I threw my hand over my mouth. Rosalie turned to glare at me, her eyes sparking with chagrined fury.
Emmett and Jasper turned to stare, too, and I heard Esme's confusion. Esme was downstairs in a flash, pausing to glance between Rosalie and me.
"Don't stop, Edward," Esme encouraged after a strained moment.
I started playing again, turning my back on Rosalie while trying very hard to control the grin stretching across my face. She got to her feet and stalked out of the room, more angry than embarrassed. But certainly quite embarrassed.
If you say anything I will hunt you like a dog.
I smothered another laugh.
"What's wrong, Rose?" Emmett called after her. Rosalie didn't turn. She continued, back ramrod straight, to the garage and then squirmed under her car as if she could bury herself there.
"What's that about?" Emmett asked me.
"I don't have the faintest idea," I lied.
Emmett grumbled, frustrated.
"Keep playing," Esme urged. My hands had paused again.
I did as she asked, and she came to stand behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.
The song was compelling, but incomplete. I toyed with a bridge, but it didn't seem right somehow.
"It's charming. Does it have a name?" Esme asked.
"Not yet."
"Is there a story to it?" she asked, a smile in her voice. This gave her very great pleasure, and I felt guilty for having neglected my