Rhapsody for Two - Theresa Romain Page 0,20
the most lucrative task. But, Rowena, you don’t look pleased.”
She hesitated. “I’m never pleased to tune a pianoforte, though I’m grateful for the work. It’s just—”
The shop door’s bell jingled.
“I’ll see to it.” Edith slid from the worktable, casting a regretful glance at the remaining cream cakes, then strode into the small front room.
Rowena turned her attention to the violin she’d been delicately taking to bits, so Simon accepted her silence and went to work in the shop window. He was able to arrange a curtain in the window to afford the workshop its privacy while also displaying his “How to Ruin a Violin” sign—without the little story Rowena had laughingly protested.
Piece by piece, he placed in the parts of the violin Rowena handed him, then stood the neck on end and topped it with a second card. “How to Repair a Violin: Consult Fairweather’s.” He was aware of curious passersby peering at him as he worked. Good.
Simon clambered from the window area, careful not to disarrange the new display, just as Edith re-entered the room.
“This violin needs a new saddle, so says the man who deposited it into Fairweather’s care.” Edith brandished a small instrument with an uncommonly red varnish. “Did you know violins had saddles, Mr. Thorn? How equestrian.”
Rowena indicated a place for her friend to set the instrument. “You booked the job at the higher rate? The new rate?”
“Of course.” Edith winked. “Maybe even a bit more than you told me to charge. He was happy enough to agree, and he left half the fee in advance. You can get this done within a week, can’t you?”
“Of course,” Rowena echoed. She looked around the workshop, clearly counting up the tasks that lay before her. “That one’s ready for varnish…that one needs a sound post…the Rugeri needs to be returned…the fingerboard there…oh, and now the three pianofortes. Yes. A week will be fine.”
She didn’t appear to be at ease, and Simon guessed at the end of the sentence she’d been about to utter when the shop bell interrupted. “But it’s not enough.”
Slowly, Rowena shook her head. “I can’t do enough work, and quickly enough, to secure the lease. Not at one hundred fifty guineas per year.”
This time when they looked at each other, there was no crystalline flirtation. This shared glance was knowing and heavy. Without a windfall, she wouldn’t keep her shop—and he wouldn’t gather money enough to help Howard.
No. That wasn’t an option. “I’ll think of something else,” he promised. “Something that will help you in time.”
“Is this experience, or arrogance?” asked Edith.
“Experience.” He hoped. “I’ve always thought of something in the past, so there’s every reason to assume I will again. Just as it’s experience, not arrogance, for Miss Fairweather to say she can fix that violin within a week. She’s done it before and knows what to do.”
“People are not instruments,” Edith pointed out.
“I could draw you a poetic comparison,” Simon replied. “About how we all feel in harmony with certain parts of life, and some things set us to vibrating like a gut string. But I’ll just offer you another cake.”
“I take it back,” said Edith. “People are instruments, and you know how to play them. I can be entirely won over by cakes.”
“And you, Rowena?”
“I’m not won over by cakes,” she replied.
“What are you won by?”
She looked at him with a touch of bleak amusement, and he knew his own answer. He was won by a pair of frank blue eyes. Had been won, maybe, the instant he entered the shop on a whim, hoping the luthier would have a tool that could swiftly unstop his horn.
“Well,” Edith broke in. “I see that I must be getting on my way. Rowena, are you ready to relinquish How to Ruin a Duke?”
Rowena tapped her nose. “‘Ready to relinquish’? Alliteration again. It’s everywhere.”
“Your attempt at distraction won’t work. Hand it over, won’t you? You’ve had it for a week already.”
“Nanny keeps taking it! I’m not finished yet.”
“I won’t have time to read it before our turn is up,” Edith protested.
“Frankenstein,” Rowena reminded her. “Nightmare Abbey. Remember those? I had hardly any time with them.”
Edith rolled her eyes. “I was nearer the circulating library. It only made sense for me to pick them up and read them first. But here, look what I have.” She rummaged in her bag. Simon watched curiously as she pulled out two bound volumes.
Edith squinted at the spines. “Glenarvon. You’ve read that.” She stuffed that volume back into the bag,