Hope, Levy, Marc [good summer reads TXT] 📗

meeting and Harold was on a business trip on the West Coast.

She found Nadia reading on a bench under an alder tree. When she caught sight of Melly walking toward her, her eyes filled with tears that she brushed away with the back of her hand.

Melly sat down next to her and looked at her.

“So, you finally came to visit your old nanny.”

“Is this the first time?” Melly asked shyly.

“As far as I can recall.” Nadia closed her book.

“How long have you lived here?”

“When I was your age, I read a wonderful novel. The writer was Polish, like me, although that’s where the similarities ended. He became French, and I became American. We Poles just love changing nationality. Now, where was I? Ah yes,” Nadia remembered.

“A wonderful novel, called Your Ticket Is No Longer Valid. I lent it to you; we kept it a secret from your father. It was quite racy. You loved it. Back in those days, I imagined myself as the young Brazilian woman catching that man’s eye. You know what I mean. Now I’m old enough to be his grandmother. So to answer your question, I’ve been living in this hole ever since my ticket became no longer valid. You had graduated from the conservatory; you were going on tour. I was no longer useful. But I’m grateful to your father. He always paid me well, and if he hadn’t, I would never have had the money to end my days in this residence.”

Melly lowered her gaze in silence. She suddenly felt like an imposter, elbowing her way into a past that didn’t belong to her.

“I should have come to see you earlier,” she murmured, confused.

“Why would you have done that? You had your whole life ahead of you, a career to enjoy, concerns that were much more interesting than worrying about an old employee.”

“I regret it. You were the one who raised me.”

“Your parents raised you. I simply served them.”

“Why are you so hard on yourself?” Melly asked.

“I’m ninety-one years old, and the only friends I have are my books. That’s hard.”

“We made some good memories, didn’t we?”

“We did; I can’t deny it. Which is your favorite?”

“Which is yours?”

Nadia looked up at the sky.

“All of them. They’re all my favorite. But I asked you first.”

“When you came to pick me up at the conservatory, and you took me to see old movies downtown, and we told Dad that we’d spent the end of the afternoon at the museum.”

“Walt reminded you of that, didn’t he?”

Melly didn’t reply. The old nanny opened her book and started to read. She wet her fingertip to turn a page and looked back up.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I just wanted to see you again.”

“You were a marvelous little girl, full of wonder at the world around you, full of whimsy.” Nadia gazed at her. “I’ve never stopped asking myself what I did wrong for you to turn into a selfish young woman obsessed with her career. You were a pretty girl who became a beautiful woman. Beauty can dull the prettiest souls.”

“I’ve changed since the accident. I didn’t tell you, but—”

“I know,” the nanny interrupted. “I read the papers too. Walt comes to visit me every month and gives me your news.”

“I lost my memory,” Melly admitted.

“No. That’s something else.” The governess looked deep into Melly’s eyes. “If I hadn’t recognized your face, I would have said you were an imposter with your eye on Mr. Barnett’s fortune. But what happens at the estate is no longer any business of mine. It’s nearly time for my lunch. You had best be going.”

Melly left the retirement home upset. She didn’t say a word on the journey back, until the car slid through the estate’s gates.

“Walt, have I changed much since I came back?”

“I couldn’t say, Miss Barnett,” the driver replied.

But when he opened the door and Melly stepped out of the car, he whispered into her ear. “The real Melody Barnett would never have sat next to me.”

Harold was back home from his trip, and he had a surprise for his daughter. Arriving at one of the town’s fanciest restaurants, Melly discovered that her father had invited three guests to brunch with them. She recognized two of them immediately, thanks to the reports her Longview PT had given her at the end of her sessions. To her right was Simon Beaulieu, lead violinist in the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, and to his left was George Rapoport with his wife, Nina. Melly had played countless concerts accompanied by Simon and conducted by George. The conversation was entirely given over to music, scattered with inner-circle discussions and shared memories of their greatest performances together. Rapoport turned to Melody (he had never dared call her by any other name), and asked if she felt ready to take to the stage again. Melly was so clearly embarrassed, that Simon came to her rescue.

“Not in public, of course. George means to ask whether you feel ready to work with us again. Purely for pleasure, nothing else. We could start by rehearsing, just the three of us, and if you feel comfortable, I’m sure some of the other orchestra musicians would be delighted to join us. But not until you say you’re ready.”

Harold and George hadn’t been expecting the interjection and shot each other a disappointed glance. Their despair was all the deeper when Betsy piped up to say how right Simon was. Melly should only do what felt right, she said. Irrespective of how her father might feel. She knew better than anyone how important it was to take each day as it came.

Melly excused herself from the table, telling the group that she didn’t feel too well and needed to freshen up. As soon as she left, Betsy pointed an accusing finger at her husband. She didn’t need to say anything more. Harold knew that when Betsy pointed, storm clouds started brewing.

Simon placed his napkin down and made his excuses.

Looking for Melly, he