---

Mildred had not heard Veda play in months, and when she finally did, she was delighted by the result. She wasn’t entirely confident in her musical skill, but the sound was pleasant and loud. Still, it was impossible not to notice how commanding Veda raised her right hand high into the air, and how she crossed her left hand over her right. The music swelled, reaching an exciting, tumultuous climax, then suddenly fell silent. Veda, annoyed, took a chord. “That’s how I always want to play,” she said.

“I’ll tell Mr. Rachmaninoff when I see him,” Mildred said.

Mr. Hannen responded with a slight, ironic smile, but his eyebrows drew together over his nose, and he looked intently at Veda. It stung her a little, and she fell silent. He didn’t say anything—only rose, found the sheet music, and laid it in front of her.

“Let’s try playing from the sheet,” he suggested.

Veda played the piece like a living mechanical toy, and Mr. Hannen grimaced as if in pain, then stared at her intently. When the room finally fell into silence, he approached the shelves again, took out a violin case, placed it beside Mildred, opened it, and began to rosinate his bow.

“Let’s try the accompaniment. What’s your name?”

“Miss Pierce.”

“Huh?”

“Veda,” she corrected.

“Have you ever played accompaniment?”

“Just a little.”

“Just a little, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“I should warn you, Veda, that I combine general lessons with musical ones for my young students. So, if you don’t want a cuff on the ear, call me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, trying to keep her composure.

Mildred felt like stomping her foot and bursting out laughing at the sight of Veda suddenly becoming so meek and obedient. But she only pretended not to hear and began fingering the silky lining of Mr. Hannen’s violin case as if it were the most fascinating sewing item she’d ever seen.

He took the violin, turned toward Veda, and said:

“This isn’t my instrument, but you need something for accompaniment, so it’ll do. Play an A.”

He tuned the violin and laid the sheet music on the piano.

“Good, but faster. Don’t drag.”

Veda looked at the notes in confusion.

“Why… did you give me the violin part?” she asked.

“?”

“Sir.”

“Oh, so you—”

He paused for a moment, fixing his gaze on the shelves, then shook his head.

“Well, the piano part is somewhere here, but I don’t see it at the moment. All right, hold the violin part in front of you and play along a bit. Let’s see—you’ve got four measures before my entrance. Count the last one out loud.”

“Sir, I don’t even know how—”

“Start,” he ordered.

Desperately glancing at the sheet music, Veda played a long, uncertain melody that ended somewhere on a bright note. Then, striking the bass, she began counting:

“One, two, three, four, and…”

Even Mildred could tell that the violin was definitely not Mr. Hannen’s instrument. But Veda kept playing the bass, and when he stopped, she repeated that long phrase, struck the bass again, counted, and he played once more. This continued for a while, and gradually, Mildred noticed, her playing grew more smooth and confident. One time, when he paused again, Veda missed the long phrase; instead, she repeated the last part of the melody he had played, so when he re-entered, they played together, in unison.

When they finished, Mr. Hannen put away the violin and looked at Veda once more.

“Where did you learn harmony?” he asked.

“I’ve never studied harmony, sir,” she replied.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully.

---