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“I’ll help you,” Grandma said.
Seraphina eagerly grabbed my hand again. “This way,” she exclaimed, pulling me along once more. Iris and my brothers scrambled to keep up as Seraphina charged upstairs.
And just like that, our families became inseparable until everything broke apart.
Chapter Nine
Seraphina
(Then)
Seraphina, age eight . . .
I sat on the plush sofa, legs swinging impatiently as I waited for Zane and Brahms. They had to finish their chores before they could have fun. The grand piano took up the music room, polished to a glossy shine. Glancing toward the bay windows, I saw the snow continuing to fall fast and heavily outside. They were calling it the blizzard of the century, though Mom said that was an exaggeration. Still, big snowstorms like this were rare in Birchwood Falls.
Fortunately, the Ehrenberg boys stayed with us since their parents were stuck in London. Well, I wouldn’t say it was fortunate exactly—Mrs. Ehrenberg was there for a new treatment to fight her illness. Mom assured us she would be okay, but Grandma Amanda had been crying the other day, worrying her daughter might die, just like Grandpa Ron.
I hoped she wouldn’t die because that would make Brahms so sad. He wasn’t my favorite Ehrenberg boy—Mom didn’t allow me to pick favorites—but I liked him the most. He played dolls with me and sometimes ate the food I didn’t like, so Mom wouldn’t get upset at me.
Soon, I heard footsteps, and Zane and Brahms hurried in. Zane waved. “Ready for the concert, Princess Fifi?” he asked, using his nickname for me.
“Sephie or Seraphina. Fifi sounds like a dog,” I protested.
My brother rolled his eyes and took the piano bench. Brahms hoisted his guitar and joined him. Their hands poised over the instruments, and the two shared a look. Then, the room filled with music.
My foot tapped along as Brahms’s nimble fingers danced across the strings. Beside him, Zane’s passionate playing drove the intensity. I was mesmerized seeing them lost in the flow of their music.
The final notes rang out, and I applauded wildly. “I want to learn to play like you,” I declared, then looked pleadingly at Brahms, who had been teaching Zane. “Can you teach me please?”
Brahms met my gaze, as if he was pondering my request.
“Your teacher comes every Wednesday, Seraphina,” Zane pointed out gently.
“But Brahms knows more. He’s the one who taught you,” I insisted.
Brahms grinned. “She’s right. There’s no better teacher than me,” he boasted playfully.
“I don’t want to brag, but Princess Sephie is right.”
“See, you have to teach me. Please,” I exclaimed excitedly.
Brahms chuckled and ruffled my hair. “Alright, I suppose I can give you some lessons too,” he acquiesced. “Better get those fingers ready.”
* * *
(Now)
I stare incredulously at the list of demands Brahms sent me. As if having me at his beck and call twenty-four seven wasn’t enough. Now, he wants a guest room prepared in case his bandmates want to visit, a music room with a grand piano, and more. The list of ridiculous requests goes on. He plans to pay for it all, but wants it done ASAP.
I rub my temples, trying to ease the mounting frustration. I understand he’s used to getting his way, but this is over the line. Moving here affects more than just me, but that’s something I refuse to explain to him. He doesn’t need to know anything about my life.
Just as I’m contemplating how to tell Brahms his ideas are absurd, the office door opens and Blythe walks in. “Hey, I just wanted to check on . . .” she begins, then notices my aggravated expression. “Whoa, what’s got you looking ready to flip a table?”
I push the list over to her with an exasperated sigh. “Behold, his highness’s royal decrees for renovations,” I say wryly. Blythe scans the list, and lets out a low whistle.
“Didn’t I tell you this was a bad idea?” I say, groaning. “Our ‘miracle client’ is going to be a real joy to handle.”
She gives me a sympathetic shoulder pat. “Do you want to talk about it?” Blythe asks gently.
