----------------------------------------
Ace Hamilton penned an elaborate note of apology to Evelyn, brimming with sincere regret. However, upon reflection, Evelyn found it embarrassing. In a calmer moment, she viewed his gesture as somewhat absurd, realizing that she had perhaps magnified the situation in her own mind. Ignoring the note would have inflated its importance needlessly, while a serious response might imply she had yielded to his influence. Ultimately, she opted for a light, playful reply, inviting him to visit her during his leisure.
Hamilton promptly took up her offer, appearing at her doorstep with his disarming charm. From then on, hardly a day passed without their interactions or reminders of him. He found various reasons to be in her company, adopting an attitude of good-natured deference and unspoken admiration. He accommodated her ever-changing moods, whether warm or distant, gradually evolving their relationship from acquaintance to intimacy. His conversation sometimes surprised and initially embarrassed her, yet it later appealed to her more primal instincts, stirring within her.
Despite her growing involvement with Hamilton, nothing soothed Evelyn’s senses like visiting Mademoiselle Reisz. In the pianist’s presence, despite her personal distaste, Evelyn felt a liberation of spirit through the woman’s divine artistry.
On a misty afternoon, Evelyn ascended to Mademoiselle Reisz’s attic apartment, drenched from the rain. The room felt cold and dreary, with a rusty stove struggling to warm the space. Mademoiselle, with her stiff neck and dusty surroundings, greeted Evelyn as the “sunlight,” attempting to make the room more hospitable. She offered Evelyn brandy to warm her up and listened casually as Evelyn mentioned her plans to move from her grand house on Esplanade Street to a smaller, cozier place nearby.
Mademoiselle, nonchalant as ever, showed little surprise or interest in Evelyn’s decision. Adjusting loose violets in her hair, she accepted Evelyn’s explanation with a hint of skepticism, hinting that there might be more to Evelyn’s choice than she admitted. Their conversation danced around the truth of Evelyn’s circumstances, touching on the complexities of her marriage and her desire for a simpler life.
“Oh! You see through me completely. Let me explain: It’s a whim. I have a bit of money from my mother’s estate, dribbled by my father. I also won a significant sum in winter races and started selling my sketches. Laidpore is pleased with my work; he says it’s gaining force and uniqueness. I can’t judge that myself, but I do feel more at ease and confident. I’ve sold quite a few through Laidpore. I can live in the tiny house inexpensively with one servant. Old Celestine, who helps me occasionally, offered to stay with me and manage things. I think I’ll enjoy the freedom and independence,” Evelyn explained.
“What does your husband think?” Mademoiselle inquired.
“I haven’t told him yet. It just occurred to me this morning. He’ll probably think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe you do too,” Evelyn replied.
Mademoiselle shook her head slowly. “Your motive isn’t clear yet,” she remarked.
Evelyn herself wasn’t entirely certain of her motive; it unfolded as she sat silently. Instinct drove her to set aside her husband’s support in embracing her newfound independence. She wasn’t sure how things would be when he returned; there would need to be an explanation. Regardless, she resolved never to be beholden to anyone but herself.
“I’ll host a grand dinner before leaving the old house!” Evelyn exclaimed. “You must come, Mademoiselle. I’ll serve your favorite food and drinks. We’ll sing, laugh, and have a great time for once,” she added with a sigh that echoed her innermost feelings.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
If Mademoiselle had received a letter from Taylor during Evelyn’s absence, she would hand it over without prompting. Then she’d sit at the piano, playing as Evelyn read the letter.
The small stove roared, heating the room as the chocolate sizzled. Evelyn opened the stove door, and Mademoiselle handed her a letter from under Beethoven’s bust.
“Another one so soon!” Evelyn exclaimed, delighted. “Mademoiselle, does he know I read his letters?”
“Never! He’d be furious and stop writing if he knew. Does he write to you? Never. Does he send you a message? Not a word. He loves you, poor man, trying to forget you since he can’t have you,” Mademoiselle explained.
“Why show me his letters then?” Evelyn asked.
“You asked for them. Can I deny you anything? Oh, you can’t fool me,” Mademoiselle responded, playing the piano. Evelyn sat with the letter, feeling the music fill her with warmth and joy.
“Oh! Why didn’t you tell me?” Evelyn exclaimed, grabbing Mademoiselle’s hands. “Why not tell me he’s coming back?”
“He says ‘very soon.’ You know as much as I do; it’s all in the letter,” Mademoiselle replied.
“But why? Why is he coming? Oh, if only I knew—” Evelyn searched the letter for answers.
“If I were young and in love,” Mademoiselle mused, “I’d choose a man of great intellect and ambition, someone noteworthy. I wouldn’t settle for an ordinary man.”
Evelyn, holding the letter, looked up at Mademoiselle. “Do you think a woman knows why she loves? Does she choose based on status or fame?” she questioned, challenging Mademoiselle’s view.
“You’re intentionally misunderstanding me, ma reine. Are you in love with Taylor?” Mademoiselle Reisz asked.
“Yes,” admitted Evelyn for the first time, a blush spreading across her face.
“Why?” probed her companion. “Why love him when you shouldn’t?”
Evelyn kneeled before Mademoiselle, who held her face gently. “Why? Because of his brown hair, the way his eyes open and close, his slightly crooked nose, and a finger that can’t straighten from playing baseball too hard in his youth. Because—”
“Because you do, in essence,” Mademoiselle chuckled. “What will you do when he returns?” she inquired.
“Nothing, except feel glad and alive,” Evelyn replied, already thrilled at the thought. The once gloomy sky now seemed refreshing as she walked home.
Stopping at a confectioner’s, Evelyn ordered a box of bonbons for the children in Iberville, adding a card with a loving message and kisses.
That evening, she wrote a charming letter to her husband, announcing her plans to move to a nearby house temporarily, arranging a farewell dinner, and expressing regret that he couldn’t be there.
“What’s got you in such high spirits?” Hamilton asked later that evening. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”
“Don’t you know the weatherman predicts sunshine soon?” Evelyn quipped, reclining by the fire.
“Well, that’s reason enough,” he agreed, sitting close to her and lightly touching her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
“One day,” she mused, “I’ll gather my thoughts and try to understand what kind of woman I am. I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t bother. I can tell you,” Hamilton interjected, his fingers wandering across her face.
“Oh, please spare me the flattery,” Evelyn responded.
“No flattery. I’ll tell you exactly what you are,” Hamilton insisted, his touch lingering on her cheeks.
“Oh, yes? And what am I?” she challenged.
“You’re captivating, but I won’t go so far as to say adorable,” he teased.
“Do you know Mademoiselle Reisz?” Evelyn asked, changing the subject.
“The pianist? I’ve heard her play,” Hamilton replied.
“She says intriguing things sometimes,” Evelyn continued. “Like today, she felt my shoulder blades to see if my wings were strong, saying a bird soaring above tradition needs strength.”
“Where would you soar?” Hamilton inquired.
“Nowhere extraordinary. I don’t fully understand her,” Evelyn admitted.
“I’ve heard she’s eccentric,” Hamilton remarked.
“She seems sane to me,” Evelyn countered.
“I’ve heard she’s unpleasant. Why bring her up when I want to talk about you?” Hamilton asked, a hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Talk about me, but let my thoughts wander,” Evelyn replied coyly.
“I’m jealous of your thoughts tonight,” Hamilton admitted. “They’re making you kinder than usual, but I feel like they’re somewhere else.”
She smiled, their eyes locked in silence. When he leaned in to kiss her, she responded passionately, a flame igniting within her for the first time.