Losing sight wouldn’t hold the child back.
Celestia felt the crinkles around her eyes deepen as she smiled. What joy the little girl had brought into her grief-stricken life.
But upon reaching the staircase, she gasped. No sign of Chaisley anywhere.
“Um, I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll run up and see if she’s taking a rest. Or possibly a jaunt to the loo.”
Mary Beth was halfway to the top when a glissando reached Celestia’s ears.
What?
Her heart clenched at the memory of Chaisley’s birthday and her present. With an abrupt turn, she headed toward the music room, Mary Beth close on her heels.
No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Celestia had ordered everyone to stay clear of the room since that awful night. No one had dared to enter other than the one maid that was allowed to clean in there.
Arpeggios up and down the piano sounded. Then a spectacular and flowing melody.
When Celestia reached the doors, she stopped. Her heart thundered. Her mouth dropped open. With a shaking hand, she opened one door and then stared. The song grew in volume and harmonies. The music coming from the instrument was beautiful. Unlike anything she’d ever heard before.
It jolted at a dissonant chord. The music stopped. Chaisley’smumbled words couldn’t be deciphered, but then the music started again.
Celestia peered across the room. Could her eyes and ears be deceiving her?
No. It was true! Her granddaughter sat on the bench, her eyes wide open, face toward the windows, a jubilant smile lifting her lips.
Mary Beth nudged Celestia and whispered, “My goodness, Mrs. Frappier, you didn’t tell me the child could play. I would’ve brought her in here had I known. How long has she been studying?”
Celestia could only shake her head.
“Ma’am? Are you quite all right?”
The sweet girl’s question brought Celestia out of her stupor. She closed her mouth and composed herself. She swallowed and cleared her throat. How could she explain this? There was no way ... other than divine appointment.
“We must call Monsieur Beaufort immediately.” The words spilled out on a soft whisper.
“Who?” Mary Beth stepped in front of her, brows knit deep. “Ma’am, I’m confused.”
“Monsieur Beaufort is the piano teacher.” With a deep breath, Celestia put into words the only explanation she could give—the truth. “Three hours, Mary Beth. That’s it.”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“My granddaughter ... she’s had one lesson and only played three hours prior to today.”
chapter
One
Berlin, Germany—Thursday, February 10, 1938
Tension hummed in the crowd as Rick Zimmerman pointed to the third fish on his left. Hopefully the code hadn’t changed. He held his breath.
Harold the fishmonger nodded, wrapped the selection, and then handed it to Rick.
The sour and salty smell of fish mixed with the musty scent of the newspaper assaulted his senses as he allowed himself to breathe again. Swallowing hard, he tucked the package under his arm. He tipped his hat to the older gentleman and turned on his heel, taking long, steady steps down the block.
The market was busy this morning, but his contact hadn’t flinched. Nazi police and soldiers seemed to be everywhere. None of the shoppers looked anyone in the eye. They made their purchases, then scurried to the next store.
