We sat there silent for a moment and, just as it had every time I was with her, that extraordinary electric connection arced between us. How could it still be there, after all these years and after all that had happened? I could have sat there looking at her forever, but I forced myself to continue my story.
“Joachim fell in love with the Rose the first time he played it. He spent something like fourteen years trying to persuade Kendall to sell it to him. Kendall finally relented, and on New Year’s Day in 1879, Joachim played the premiere performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto on it in Leipzig. He called it ‘the violin of angels.’”
“I wonder how Arturo got it—or do you know?” asked Olivia.
“Up to this moment, I don’t think anybody knew he had it. The Merino Rose has been missing for well over a hundred years.”
I paused, reminding myself that it was still possible that this violin was nothing more than a beautiful fake. All the right identifiers were there, and I’d heard that one pure note, but still—
“Do you want to play it, Ted?” asked Olivia, once again reading my thoughts.
“I do,” I said. “In fact, I’d like nothing more. But first let me finish what I know of the rest of the story.
“About a year after the Brahms performance, the Merino Rose disappeared from Joachim’s conservatory in Berlin. The thief was never caught, but one of Joachim’s students, a young Italian named Vittorio Bonacci, was the leading suspect. He vanished along with the violin.
“In 1881, Bonacci died in a fire in Trieste, a big fire that killed a dozen other people and destroyed the Opera House. Rumors immediately swept the continent that the Merino Rose was also a victim of the Trieste Opera fire.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“Well, nobody knew for sure, and the Rose has become a kind of violin Bigfoot over the last century. Every few years, someone claims to have found it, but when the time comes for authentication, it’s always a fake or nothing at all. Replicas occasionally show up at auctions, but that’s all they are—copies.”
“Couldn’t mine be just a copy?”
“It’s possible, but—“
“Now I understand,” interrupted Olivia suddenly. “Now I know why Arturo left me his study. The real gift was the violin, and by hiding it in a room full of furniture, he made sure I got it.”
She stopped talking, and both of us stared at the instrument between us.
“If you played it, would you know for sure?” she asked quietly.
“I think so.”
“Then play it, Ted.”
Chapter 39
She didn’t have to say it again. Violin in hand, I led the way into my practice room. Olivia settled herself into a stuffed chair in the corner between the windows while I tuned. Then, raising my bow, I filled the room with the opening bars of the Brahms Violin Concerto.
Every hint of doubt vanished in those first exquisite strains. The Merino Rose was like a living thing in its response to my fingers and bow, and I have never felt more inextricably enmeshed with an instrument as I played. There was no “getting to know you” period. The Rose and I fell in love at first note.
I played the whole concerto before I remembered my job as host. Forcing myself to set the violin down, I turned to Olivia.
“You must be hungry or thirsty,” I said. “Forgive me for not offering you something sooner.”
“No, no, Ted, I’m fine,” she laughed. “Hearing you play has been wonderful. I don’t think you’ve played just for me since high school!”
I always play just for you, Olivia! I longed to say. Ever since that day in the park, I have never played for anyone else.
“But you know, I actually am kind of famished,” she continued. “I just realized I haven’t eaten since L.A.”
Soon we were seated at my dining room table getting ready to tuck into roast beef sandwiches and potato salad. I had offered Olivia champagne, but she declined.
“I’ve got to drive,” she said simply, and I tried to hide my disappointment as I poured two glasses of Evian water.
Mrs. Adams had placed two purple candles on the table, one on each side of a crystal vase filled with white chrysanthemums. I lit the candles before we sat down, but somehow, as I sat across from Olivia, they seemed more funereal than romantic. How could it be, I wondered as I gazed at my one true love, that our lives had never managed to intersect for more than a few fleeting moments? I love you, Olivia, I wanted to shout. I love you!
But all I did was bite into a roast beef sandwich.
Chapter 40
I couldn’t eat much more than a mouthful. Being with Olivia and playing her violin had destroyed my appetite. I hadn’t eaten anything since an early-morning bowl of Cheerios, but the only hunger I felt was a keen yearning for all the things I’d wanted in my life but never succeeded in achieving. And all those longings coalesced into one white-hot coal in the middle of my stomach. What I wanted was Olivia, and it was my fault we hadn’t spent our lives together.
Now it was too late. Olivia loved Arturo. Even though he was no longer alive, she had obviously found a soul mate in him. He must have loved her dearly to bequeath her his perfect violin. But I would have done the same! I screamed silently to myself as I sat staring at my sandwich. Then why hadn’t I? And soon she would be gone again. Soon she would be walking out my door—
“Ted, what are you thinking?” asked Olivia.
“Uh, well, just that I’m glad you came,” I answered lamely.
“Me, too. It’s wonderful to see you.”
Silence.
“Teddy?”
I looked at her, surprised to hear her call me by my nickname.
“The violin’s for you.”
“What?”
“It’s for you. That’s why I came here. I want you to have it.”
“You can’t mean—”
“I mean it. You’re the one who can make it sing. I certainly can’t.”
“But it’s worth—”
“I made up my mind when I first saw it. And I’m glad it turned out to be something special—that I can give you something really wonderful.”
I was too stunned to answer. Olivia pushed the plates aside, then reached across the table and took both my hands in her own.
“Teddy, I love you. I always have, and I always will. I’ve long since given up on the notion that we were meant to spend our lives together, but in a way, we have spent our lives together. You’ve always been with me these—how long has it been?—these thirty-three years. When I first saw that violin, shouldn’t I have thought of Arturo? But I didn’t. I thought of you. You’re never far from my thoughts, and when the violin came along, I knew I had to tell you.”
She looked down. Then, raising her face and looking me square in the eyes, she said it again.
“I love you, Teddy.”
“I love you, Olivia.”
It was my turn to look down.
“Screw the violin,” I said.
“What?”
“To hell with it. I want you.”
I looked at the candles. They were weeping now, spilling purple wax all over the linen tablecloth.
“You’ve always had me, Ted,” said Olivia at last. “Ever since we stood side by side that day in Isla Vista Park. Do you remember? I knew I loved you then, and I kept on loving you, even though life took us on our separate paths. Then, when we met in New York, and we had those magical days together—”
“Olivia—”
“It’s just the way things are, Teddy,” Olivia continued before I could say another word. “Life intervened again. I had a daughter to consider. And you—”
Olivia broke off mid-sentence, then went on more quietly. “I won’t deny I was angry. I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t wait for me. I felt as though you abandoned me when I needed you
most. Believe it or not, it was Arturo who helped me forgive you. ‘You can love more than one, my treasure,’ he used to tell me. ‘That’s what makes real life better than a fairy tale.’ He was right. He loved his wife, who had died fifteen years before I met him. He loved each one of his six children, and Teddie, too. And he loved me.”
We stared at each other in the flickering candlelight, and I saw two tears rise in Olivia’s eyes.
“His name was Arthur,” she said. “Arturo is Italian for Arthur.”
Puzzled, I looked at her.
“Don’t you see? You were Lancelot. I was Guenevere. He was Arthur. He’s the one who noticed it, years ago when I told him about you and Camelot. He thought it was funny. He told me that if I forgave you, I’d grow old without wrinkles.”
I smiled at that. “Looks like it’s working. I swear you haven’t changed since high school.”
Olivia sighed and shook her head.
“I’ll never know why he gave me that violin. All I’m sure of is that I want you to have it.”
“Olivia—it’s too much.”
“It’s not enough. But it’s what I have to give, Teddy.”
Olivia leaned toward the dying candles. Cupping her hand behind each flame, she blew them out. We sat there in the darkness for a moment, and then she rose with a sigh. Picking up our plates, she moved toward the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, I gathered the remaining silverware and followed her.
“I should be going now, Ted.” Olivia set the plates in the sink. “It’s been wonderful to see you, and thanks so much for dinner.”
This couldn’t be happening! Olivia couldn’t walk back into my life and then walk right back out again! This was our last chance! This was when it could all work out!
“Please stay,” I blurted. “Please.”
“I can’t, Ted. I have to be back in L.A. tomorrow. My mom’s got a doctor’s appointment. I always take her. And Teddie’s opening in Les Misérables on Friday.”
“Olivia—”
Olivia turned toward me and put a hand on each side of my face.
“Shh, Teddy. It’s time to face things for what they are, which is pretty damned wonderful. We’ve had the perfect love, you and I. We should thank our parents we broke up in high school, you know. We would have ended up hating each other.”
“No!”
“Yes, we would have. We both wanted to be stars.”
I stared at her.
“But later,” I said, “when—”
“It wouldn’t have worked out then, either, Ted.”
“It could have, if I hadn’t—”
“No. I spent a long time thinking it was your fault, but it wasn’t. We were just saved again, protected from trying to live together, which would have been a disaster. But don’t you see? It’s meant we could keep on loving each other.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could it ever be a good thing that we’d led separate lives?
“You’ve been the beautiful music, Ted,” Olivia said, “always there in the background. Always perfect.”
And always unfinished, I couldn’t help thinking. Always unfinished, unless—
“What about now?” I blurted suddenly. “I mean, well, here we are. We’re both—we’re both—” Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to finish my thought. It might sound as though I was glad Arturo had died.
“Free?” Olivia read my mind easily.
“Well—yes.”
God, how I wanted to gather her into my arms and never let her go.
“I really do have to go, Ted,” said Olivia quietly.
“Come back.”
“We’ll see. I—I—we’ll have to see. Ted, I’m happy now. I’ve got my mom and my daughter and my work, and—and two big dogs who love to walk on the beach every evening.”
She gave me a look I couldn’t read.
“It’s funny, really. Back when I was fighting with Jay about who would get the house and the money, I felt as though I was fighting for my life. And you made me so mad when you told me to take Teddie and walk away. I couldn’t do it. It just felt too important. I couldn’t walk away from it any more than you could have abandoned your violin on a bus stop bench.”
We both fell silent. I struggled for words that might keep Olivia with me a little longer, but no words came.
“I suppose if I had just walked away—” She shook her head. “No, no. I would have ended up hating you for making me do it. And anyway, it’s pointless to think about what might have been.”
Olivia departed a few minutes later, and the violin stayed behind. I entreated her one last time to take it with her, but she was adamant in her refusal.
“Play it again, Ted,” she said, and we both laughed sadly at our Casablanca farewell. I have never felt more alone than I did as I stood at my kitchen window, watching two red taillights disappear around the bend in Hanford Road.
Chapter 41
How long I stood at the window, I can’t say, but when I finally turned away, I knew it was going to be a long night. I am sometimes afflicted with insomnia, but I always have an easy solution for nocturnal restlessness. I play my violin, until sunrise if that’s how long it takes for drowsiness to set in. But tonight I’d find no solace in my strings. I couldn’t bring myself to play the Merino Rose, and no other violin would do.
I returned to the practice room and regarded the violin, still sitting like a rebuke on the coffee table. The King of Strings—a miracle, really—but not powerful enough to win back Olivia for me.
Reluctantly, I placed the Rose in the case Olivia had purchased for it, snapped it shut, and carried it to the walk-in vault where I store all my fine instruments. The vault is the only modification I’ve made to my house, a fire-proof fortress required by my insurance company. If the entire house burns to the ground, that vault will still be standing and, if the manufacturer’s promises are to be trusted, whatever is locked inside it will be undamaged.
As I set the violin case on an empty shelf, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the vault was too much like a mausoleum. The Merino Rose doesn’t belong here, I thought, trapped and mute in temperature-controlled darkness. It’s been hidden too long from a world that still remembers its excellence, still longs to hear its exquisite voice. For a moment, I was tempted to open the case. “Play it again,” Olivia said just before she left, but I couldn’t bear hearing that perfect music alone. Sighing, I turned off the light, swung the heavy door shut, and secured the lock.
I killed fifteen minutes looking for Yo Yo, finding him at last emerging from a narrow crevice between the linen cabinet and the broom closet in the laundry room. Yowling, he rubbed against my legs, and then disappeared up the stairs. It’s time for bed, he was saying. What’s keeping you?
Since sleep was not an option, I sat down at my computer. Perhaps I could search the Web for solace, or forget myself in a thousand games of solitaire. That, and a large tumbler of whiskey—but somehow a better part of me knew that anesthesia was not the answer.
I sighed and stood up. Usually, the house was dark this time of night, but earlier I had turned on every light in anticipation of Olivia’s arrival. The whole place was still blazing, but all the cheery brightness only served to remind me that she was gone. Flipping switches as I went, I made my way through the living room to the den.
To please my mother, I had arranged all of my father’s furniture in there—the big desk and oversized club chairs. I’d even set up his gem-faceting equipment in there, but unless she was visiting, I rarely entered the room.
I moved to the fireplace, where a wall sconce was burning. As I turned the switch on the lamp, I caught sight of a large amethyst crystal sitting on the mantelpiece. I’d seen it a thousand times, of course, but tonight it inspired a new thought.
I moved to the bookcase behind my father’s desk. Scanning the shelves filled with
his books, I finally saw what I was looking for. Carefully, I pulled out the black box and set it on the desk. Sitting in my father’s big chair, I unfastened the clasps and removed the lid.
The case was divided into little white satin-lined compartments, and each one held a gemstone. One by one, I turned them under the banker’s light—a ruby, a sapphire, an emerald. At last, there it was, a diamond slightly tinged with pink.
“For when the right girl comes along,” my father had said.
I turned the diamond over and over in my fingers.
Olivia didn’t say, “Don’t follow.” What she said was, “We’ll have to see.”
I slipped the diamond into my pants pocket and flipped off the light. Yo Yo followed me upstairs, yowling all the way.
Chapter 42
The lights were on upstairs, too. I moved from room to room turning them off, arriving at last in the guest room furnished with the bed where Olivia had once slept long ago. It’s even possible she slept on these same sheets, I thought as I sat down. My mother bought only the highest quality linens, and they seemed to last forever. Yo Yo jumped up next to me on the quilted silk bedspread, purring loudly and rubbing against my body. I stretched out, and the cat lay down, too. The next thing I knew, it was morning.
Morning! I couldn’t believe it. I was so sure I’d be in for a sleepless night, but somehow I had slumbered like an innocent. I sat up. Yo Yo was long gone. I looked at my watch. Almost eight. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rubbed my eyes. God. I hadn’t even taken my shoes off.
Suddenly remembering, I felt in my pants pocket. I smiled. The diamond was still there. Nothing else mattered now, and I didn’t bother changing my clothes before getting to work.
First, I called Mrs. Adams.
“Of course, Mr. Spencer,” she said. “I’m always happy to take care of your kitty. I’ll drop by every evening. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Next, I phoned my lawyer.
“I’m glad I caught you, Nestor,” I said. “I need to change my will.” I told him about the Merino Rose and the simple bequest I had in mind.
Strings Page 17