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“Charlotte, I can only hope he hasn’t done or said anything unforgivable…”
“No, but he’s pissed. We should have told him about me living here.”
“I will handle him. Does this mean that he hired you?”
I gave a snort. “Yeah, but I can’t say I’m super excited. I mean, he treated me like a bug beneath his shoe, but at least he didn’t activelyhateme. He’s going to hate me, Lucien, and fire me before I even start.”
“Impossible.” The kindly old gentleman patted my cheek. “Wait here. Please. Ten minutes.”
I nodded and sat on the stoop, hugging myself despite the warmth of the afternoon. I sat there for almost exactly ten minutes, waiting. At one point, I thought I heard shouting coming from inside, but with the street noise, it was hard to tell.
Finally, Lucien emerged. His face was drawn tight like a drum, but he smiled brightly at me as he came down the steps.
“Very good, ma chère. I will have the first floor cleaned out so that you may move in this weekend and begin work Monday. Unless you need to give more notice to either your landlord or employer?”
“No, it’s fine on both counts,” I said, a thrill blooming in my chest, despite the terrible way the interview with Noah had ended. It was really happening. My crappy living situation, my crappy jobs, my struggle just to keep my head above water—all of it over. At least for a little while.
“But wait, what happened?” I asked as we walked back down the street. “Noah’s suddenly okay with me living there?”
Lucien’s smile was tense. “Not quite yet, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”
I bit my lip. “I’m giving up a lot to do this. I mean, it’s stuff I’m happy to give up, but once I do, there’s no going back.”
“Nor will you have to. Noah’s parents have given him an ultimatum which I have just passed on to him: allow a live-in assistant or lose the use of the townhouse.”
I snorted. “So it’s blackmail. No wonder he’s pissed.”
Lucien’s smile slipped. “It’s for his own good. You are here, my dear, for his own good.”
“But the whole interview was for nothing.”
Lucien stopped and regarded me gravely. “Until or unless Noah learns to live as a blind man and not as a man whousedto be sighted, he will always need an assistant. His parents know this, I know this, and Noah knows this.” He smiled at me and patted my hand. “And I, for one, am thrilled that now that person is you.”
I forced a wan smile, and we kept walking.That makes one of us.
I mulled everything over on the subway back to Greenwich, and all my apprehensions faded under the anticipation of telling Emily I was moving out. No more late-night parties, no more waits for the bathroom, no more carnal alarm clocks. I’d be free of all that and have plenty of time and money to try to find my music again.
My music.
My violin.
My violin was at Noah’s house.
I had never been without my violin, ever. It was a Samuel Eastman, not some cheap toy. My parents had worked hard to save up for that violin four years ago, as a going-to-college present. Irrational panic gripped me.
Noah can’t see it. What if he trips over the case and gets mad? He’s already pissed off. What if he SO pissed off he throws it out the window? Or decides to mess around with it and breaks a string?
The chances of Noah doing any of those things were probably slim, but I couldn’t leave my violin there. I had to go back.
“Crap,” I muttered.
The lady sitting next to me nodded. “Mmmhmm. I hear that, honey.”
chapter eight
I buzzed the bell at the townhouse, still trying to catch my breath from my subway run. I waited for Noah to answer. And waited. And waited.
I buzzed again and then a third time. My finger was poised for a fourth when the intercom came on.
