The Piano Maker Read Online Free Page B

work. He would have loved to be with you. He was a good father to you and a good husband to your mother, and he was a successful engineer. Remember those things as time goes by. Let no one take them from you. It’s important.”
    But the fact that her father was truly gone and would never come back, not even for a short time between postings, did not sink in for a long time. After the news from Africa there were nights when he sat calmly by her bedside or when she could hear his voice in dreams, and she would feel safe and sleep on. She would tell Mother in the morning, and Mother would look at her across the breakfast table, pale and still, and not say anything.

    Dr. Menasse told Juliette that Mother was exhausted. She needed rest, he said.
    Hélène heard them through the closed library door because she was standing on the other side with her ear pressed to a glass against the wood.
    “She works long hours and she’s always worried,” Juliette was saying. “It’s not just her husband’s death, it’s also the business. There is so much competition and some of them make terribly good pianos, in modern facilities. She doesn’t have the money to modernize, but even if she did, she’s stubborn about doing things her way. The quality is wonderful, of course. Everyone says that, but at what expense?”
    It was well known in the industry that with the help of modern machinery, firms like Bechstein and Bösendorfer could put out a piano every ninth day, while the Molnar factory was still mostly water-powered and pianos were made by hand, much the way they’d been since the beginning in 1850. A Molnar concert grand could take a month from start to finish, and a baby grand took not much less.
    “Well,” said Dr. Menasse, “I don’t think there is too much wrong with her physically. Nothing that rest and good food won’t cure. There is lots of room in this house, Juliette. Perhaps you could move in and lend a hand. You are family, after all.”
    “But I like it at the squire’s lodge, Charles. I waited a long time for that apartment and I wouldn’t want to give it up. At my age.”
    “I understand that. Hmm. What can I say? And you? Let me see your eyes and take your pulse.”
    There was silence for a moment in the library and then Dr. Menasse said, “Good, good.” Hélène heard the snap of his doctor’s bag.
    “I suppose I could come in the mornings,” said Juliette then. “Help out in the household. See how that goes.”
    “Yes,” said Dr. Menasse. “You could try it.”
    Not very long after that, Nathan Homewood came knocking on the office door. He said he owned an export agency that sought quality instruments for America and Canada.
    “May I?” he said, and pointed at a chair. “I have an important proposal for you.”
    He said there was a buyer from a large Boston firm visiting Paris right now, and he would like to bring the man here and make a presentation. The first order would probably be for no fewer than ten pianos. He repeated that for emphasis.
Ten pianos
. For a commission he wanted fifty per cent of net profits.
    “Fifty per cent?” Mother said to her. “Is he mad? Did I hear that right?”
    “Yes, Maman. Of net profits, not the gross.”
    “He can’t be serious. Tell him that is impossible. It is ridiculous.”
    “Madame,” said Nathan, “my French may not be perfect, but I think you can understand me without yourlovely daughter’s help. I agree that under normal circumstances one-half would be too much, but in this case I am opening up a very large and desirable market for you. Which would then be all yours.”
    Mother said she’d think about it.
    “But what is there to think about, Madame? One-half of profits after all overhead and expenses. It will leave you with the other half free and clear in the bank. Business that you won’t have unless I bring it to you. I repeat: What is there to think about? Tell me and I’ll examine it with you.”
    Hélène sat watching him: the