Vol.5, Chapter IX — The Harpsichord and the Hidden Truth

Another Friday came along, and as it has become our routine for this particular day of the week, I was dealing with a very sticky, very sweet, wifey.

“Hehe! Babe, you’ll be late!” I scold with zero fire in my voice, just warmth.

She gives me no answer, she simply pulls my head closer to her, nuzzling my hair with a pleased huff. I allow her that before tapping her thigh and reminding her that she’ll be late if this keeps going on. Finally, she let’s go of my head, but not before giving me a nice kiss and telling me she’ll be back soon. I don’t correct her, reminding her that I’ll be meeting her at Mrs. Fletcher’s B&B for a group lunch with her.

That lunch also meant that today there wouldn’t be any exploring of the woods since I didn’t want to be late. This however opened up an opportunity…

“I wonder if sis will stay in bed for much longer,” I thought out loud as I checked what we had in stock in the kitchen with the grocery list in hand to make sure nothing was forgotten.

That opportunity was to finally have a heart-to-heart with sis about her feelings for Papa Stan. Dad would soon leave for work, so me and her could take our time talking about such sensitive matter… even though I wasn’t sure what to say about it.

I only had to wait about fifteen minutes before she appeared to have her breakfast before a shower. Dad had already left, so I decided to jump right to it before I scared myself from bringing it up.

“Sis, I need to talk with you,” I told her, Sophie flinching a bit in surprise.

“About what?” she asked as she relaxed, focusing on her cereal bowl.

“…About you and Papa Stan,” I said, my voice faltering a bit.

Sophie froze for a second before acting composed again. It was a small pause, but it had been undoubtfully there.

“What do you mean?” she asked me coolly. “What’s there to talk about?”

“…I think you know sis,” I said, choosing to go down that path that way. “I’m not here to judge, I just want to hear anything you want to say.”

Sis looked at me with a frown, reminding me a bit too much of our Mum, but I didn’t falter. This was my sister I was talking with, not that woman. And true to that, sis sighed in defeat, staring down at her food with a mournful expression.

“…Claire says that I have a crush over him.”

Oh! So she did talk with someone about it!

That was such a relief to hear. Claire was… a bit of a nutcase, but she absolutely adored sis, and I didn’t see any difference in the way the two interacted, so I didn’t need to ask how that went.

“And you?” I asked her. “What do you think?”

“I think both of you are wrong,” she said after thinking for a bit, resuming eating. “For one, I’m not thinking about him twenty-four-seven.”

“Yeah, because you have the music lessons, looking for a job you’d like doing, and Claire’s shenanigans taking mental bandwidth,” I pointed out. “And sis, as much as I love Violet, it’s not like I only think about her, you know? Even though it sometimes might look or feel like it.”

Sis looked up at me, her eyes distant as she thought about what to say next. She followed it with a question.

“What exactly does it feel like to like someone?”

I crossed my arms, thinking that it was a great question for her to be making.

“Wouldn’t it vary from person to person?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking!” she huffed.

“Sorry, I was just thinking out loud,” I explained. “Hmm… for me it’s… a lightness? Like, being with Violet makes me feel like everything is brighter and that my worries and problems aren’t as heavy. I also feel very secure and wanted. And safe. Honestly, I’m so used to the feeling that I’m having a bit of a hard time describing it. And then there are those moments where Violet still gets my chest all fluttery and warm. I don’t get the butterflies in my stomach anymore, but that’s just because I’ve grown accustomed to our relationship. Well, not exactly, she does sometimes make me still feel the butterflies. Violet can be full of surprises sometimes.”

I stopped myself from talking any further. I found myself starting to gush about Violet and our relationship, and that wouldn’t be of much help for someone still figuring out her own feelings.

“That sure sounds nice,” sis grumbled. “Even if a bit of a pain in the ass.”

“It has its moments,” I laughed. “So? Recognise any of the symptoms I mentioned?”

Sis lifted up her face, her lips puckered as she chewed.

“I guess…” she began after swallowing. “I guess I kinda feel safe around him? He does give me a lot of support and advice, but…”

I said nothing, just letting her think things through and holding back a full-on grin.

“I do feel a bit anxious around him though,” she said, willingly—or perhaps unwillingly due to our upbringing—confusing the feeling of excitement about being with someone with the feeling of being anxious around someone.

“Now you’re just being silly,” I told her.

“…I really don’t want it to be a crush,” she told me, her face going very serious all of a sudden. “He’s Violet’s Dad and our Dad’s best friend and right-hand man.”

“I know sis,” I said, reaching out for one of her hands. “But I also know that we can’t really pick and choose which person we grow feelings for. I really struggled with my feelings for Violet in the beginning, you know? I felt horrible for looking at Violet with eyes that wanted more than they should from a friend.”

Sis looked at me with eyes that told me that she fully understood that I knew exactly how she was feeling right now.

“Seriously, what am I supposed to do if this turns out to be like Claire and you think it is?” she whimpered as she rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Because, if you two think it is a crush, then I’m starting to think you two might be right.”

“Well… It can also just be deep admiration,” I told her to be a bit of the Devil’s advocate. “But if we are right… you don’t really have to do anything, you know? If you think it’d cause more harm than good if you brought it up. If you do bring it up, then—”

“How could I possibly do that?!”

“—Then things won’t go down a bad path,” I continued. “Papa Stan is a very good and understanding man after all. Our dad and him might argue about it, but Dad trusts Papa Stan a lot and has seen how he is, so they’ll figure things out.”

“…”

“Hehe! Who knows? Maybe Dad will actually tell Stan to be the father of his grandkids?”

“Don’t make stupid jokes!” my sister huffed, pulling her hand away from mine. Despite her tone and actions, she was chuckling at my joke as she rubbed her face. “Seriously Abby, how can you be acting like this? Don’t you find it very weird that I might have a crush over your girlfriend’s father?”

“Hmm… It really is a bit weird, especially since I love Papa Stan as a second father, but on the other hand, this is my big sis’s first love, whom I love just as dearly. I find it weird, but I also want to support you through it, no matter your choice at the end.”

“…”

“…It will also be a very strange family tree if you two get together.”

“I-it won’t get to that point!”

“You’d be Violet’s stepmum and sister-in-law and my sister and mother-in-law, right? Is that even legal?”

“Like I said, it won’t get to that point, so just stop!”

It was a very, very weird situation we were in, but… I’d support it. I wouldn’t be pushing for it, mind you, but… I’d help my sister face those feelings and the consequences of that.

Now, all that was left was to tell Violet about this conversation and my decision on the matter and see what she’d decide. That gave me the feeling of butterflies in the stomach, but this time it was with the feeling my sister was confusing with excitement when around Papa Stan.

◊◊◊

It was a bit embarrassing remembering that I was supposed to have lunch with my boss after work, but also unsurprising. In the past few days, I’ve been a bit out of it, not from worries as is usually the case—although there’s a big one lurking around—but from excitement.

Will this take much longer?

That thought only lasted briefly. Abby had just fluffed herself against me, a result from me instinctively pulling her closer.

“Are you two not feeling hot?” Mathilda asked with a smirk.

“Not really,” I told her despite already feeling our skins starting to stick. Still, Mrs. Fletcher’s home palace always seemed cool, even with the windows open, making us clinging to each other more than tolerable.

Looking at my right, to where Sophie sat, I could tell she wanted to tell us to act more appropriately but was having a hard time calling us out, me in particular.

“…”

It’s been like this ever since I caught her staring at my Dad, but today, it felt a bit different. She seemed a bit… gloomy today. I was chucking that to her still not having found a suitable job.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Mrs. Fletcher said midsentence. “I wanted to ask a favour out of you, dear.”

“A favour from me?” Sophie asked, being taken by surprise.

Mrs. Fletcher gently put her cup of coffee down with a quiet clink before continuing.

“Yes. You see dear, I had that harpsichord over there tuned last week,” she told us, momentarily directing our attention with her gaze to the instrument at one end of the big room I had been serving breakfasts much earlier. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t around to hear it, so I have no idea if it got properly tuned or not. Could you perhaps play something for me to confirm it?”

“I, I don’t know Mrs. Fletcher,” Sophie stammered. “I know how to play the piano, but I never played a harpsichord before. In fact, this is the only place I’ve ever seen one.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Mrs. Fletcher said in an almost pleading way. “It belongs to my late husband and he was so fond of it! I really must know if it is properly tuned.”

The mention that it belonged to her late husband and her desire to preserve it were the final push Sophie needed to step up to the challenge.

As she walked, Abby tugged at my sleeve.

“Two things,” she whispered. “We need to talk when we get home, and you and sis are similar in the strangest ways sometimes.”

“Huh!?”

What kind of whispered secrets were that!? First, she tells me that we need to talk and then she tells me something completely out of left field, leaving me there, staring at her while she watches her sister take a seat at the harpsichord and begin studying the keys.

My focus moved to Sophie when she first tried pressing a key. The sound came heavy, Sophie having applied too much force. She apologised for it immediately, but Mrs. Fletcher told her not to worry and to keep on trying. The way she was smiling, it made me feel like she had some sort of plan that was going down flawlessly.

It took a bit, but Sophie found the right touch to play the unfamiliar instrument. She was playing a slower tempo melody, likely wanting to avoid defaulting to her usual pressure. It was interesting to me how different it sounded like when compared to a piano, and yet, the two instruments were very similar, at least to my ignorant eyes and ears. This one sounded very baroque—unsurprising, I know, and honestly? I think I might like it better. I don’t know technical terms, but the way the sound vibrates and comes off as more metallic than chime-y… it hit a spot in my brain that I couldn’t describe how or where it was, just that I liked this sound more. It reminded me of a melodic clockwork, like an old grandfather clock? Really, for someone who had to study music from fifth grade to the end of seventh, I really am an ignoramus on these matters.

Some of the guests I had served breakfast were coming back into the room, attracted by the music, Sophie completely missing that as she was totally focused on playing her piece.

She only realised it once the small crowd started clapping at the end of it, Sophie blushing significantly. And then came the tipping, Sophie ending up getting a nice sum in her hands before she came to sit with us again. She was stunned how she made money from just playing a bit. And then…

“And just as well,” Mrs. Fletcher said, filling up Sophie’s cup with warm coffee. “I wanted to make you a proposition related to that, so it’s good to see that my guests seem appreciative of your skills.”

“I’m sorry, a proposition?” Sophie echoed, still sounding a bit dazed as she sipped her new cup. “What sort of proposition?”

“You studied Business Management in university, correct? Top of the class?”

“Erm, yes… How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” Mrs. Fletcher chuckled, making a wave of suspicion rise in my chest. “You have the mother that you do after all. So, my proposition—or rather, propositions, are as follows: I’d like for you to come work for me as my management assistant and as a part-time musician. Thirty hours a week for the former and about ten for the latter, totalling forty hours weekly, and I’m willing to pay you appropriately for your particular set of skills. I could hire two people, one for each task, but I’d rather keep my staff compact. You get paid more than by just doing one of those tasks, and I also get to pay less in salaries since I only have one new employee instead of two.”

“Yeah, that does sound like a sound business strategy,” Sophie hummed. “It’d also help avoid one of them being a no-show for thinking that the hours and money paid aren’t worth it.”

“Exactly! So, what do you say? Will you help this poor, old lady?”

“Poor?” Mathilda snickered. “Since when are you poor, auntie?”

“I’m getting poor in memory and eyesight dear,” Mrs. Fletcher laughed. “I’m in my seventies, believe it or not, and no amount of money can change that.”

Sophie looked at Abby, but also at me. It looked like she had already made up her mind and just wanted or needed that final push. Abby and I both nodded at her to take it. Honestly, why wouldn’t she? She’d get to use the skills and knowledge she accrued her whole life, making it feel like it wasn’t wasted time and effort just to please her Mum on one hand, and she’d get to also play music, which she absolutely loved, while getting paid for it too. I wish I had that kind of luck in finding something for me instead of just being in this lingo where I can’t decide.

“All right, Mrs. Fletcher,” Sophie said. “Send me the proposal by email and after I read it, I’ll let you know my final decision as soon as possible.”

The way Mrs. Fletcher smiled further cemented the feeling that this had all been premeditated, I just couldn’t tell how exactly she could have so much foresight without delving into the fantastical.

After that talk, our time there quickly run its course and we walked outside. I walked with the sisters for a bit, Abby non-stop congratulating and beaming with satisfaction at Sophie’s new job while her big sister kept telling her she hadn’t agreed to anything yet. It made me miss having had a sister.

Well, I have Abby now… And Sophie too, in a way.

Not really the same thing, me and Abby, but Sophie and I were more in line with what I thought my relationship with a potential sister would look like… if only Sophie hadn’t gotten ahead and fallen for my Dad.

“Erm, I need to stop by somewhere first,” I said from behind them.

“Is that so?” Abby said, turning her head to look at me while hanging from her siter’s arm. “I’ll tag along then.”

“Nah, you can go home with Sophie and pester her some more,” I told her, Sophie proving to be a great distraction. “I’ll take this opportunity and grab some cake for us to celebrate the occasion too.”

“Again, I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Sophie said, fighting a smile she couldn’t quite hold back.

I thought that was it for our conversation and was all set to leave when Sophie called out my name. We looked at one another as she shifted her weight as if she was uncomfortable under her own skin.

“…Take care not to get burned by the sun, ok?” she said, sounding a bit defeated.

She wants to address it…

And she’s not brave enough for it. Still, she cares a lot for me, forcing me to face how I framed my earlier thoughts. The ones about how she “had gotten ahead and fallen for Dad”? It really wasn’t a fair way to frame it as I know from personal experience that we don’t really get to pick and choose that kind of stuff. Maybe we can choose to give someone an opportunity and open up our hearts to them, but that’s about it.

“Don’t worry Sophie,” I told her, my voice coming out soft and thankful. “I have a very thin cotton coat in my bag in case I start feeling burnt, and I applied a good layer of sunscreen before we left Mrs. Fletcher’s.”

I was off them, headed for the jewellery store. This has been what had kept me excited and a bit out of it lately. I wasn’t getting them, not completely yet anyway, I was just ordering them, but that already was a huge step forward in my plans.

As soon as we were done celebrating, Abby and I retreated to our bedroom, Abby taking the chance that her sister was going out to celebrate her new job with Claire to put me up to speed about her conversation with her sister.

“Hmm.”

So, Sophie is still having trouble admitting that she might like my Dad? Kinda understandable when it’s framed as her first crush and how we are all related.

“Hmm.”

And she’s worried and sorry that it’s my dad whom we are talking about and how that might impact all of our relationships? Very, very understandable, and further compounding the earlier point.

“Hmm!”

And to top it all off, Abby chose to support her sister, even though Abby, like me, thinks that it is weird and will be even weirder if, for some reason, they end up dating.

“HMM!”

“…Babe, you’ll be hitting oil if you keep stomping your foot like that.”

I stopped that immediately, taking notice of what I had been doing ever since Abby had stopped talking. I had been sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, head tilted down, frowning, and most annoying of all, stomping my foot as it marked the tempo of my thoughts, it sounding a lot like Luigi’s engine when Stephen goes full throttle.

“I can also see smoke coming out of your head,” Abby further told me. “You do realise that you don’t have to think that hard about all this and take your time, right?”

“Right… right, yeah, I can,” I said, softening up a bit. “Erm, thanks for telling me about it this soon.”

“Nah, don’t thank me for that,” she told me. “It’s the very, very least I could do after keeping stuff from you for so long.”

I gave Abby a soft smile and pulled her in, kissing her forehead. She let out a quiet but very sweet little giggle that warmed me up to the core. I was staring at her eyes, their green specks like stars in a brown sky, when I felt a decision settling in my mind.

“I really, really find it weird, but… I think I’ll also give my support to Sophie.”

“Really?” Abby asked, stunned and not hiding it. “Just like that?”

“No, ‘not just like that’,” I huffed. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, although I don’t really need to tell you this.”

“…May I know why?”

“Because… well, it’s her first crush, right? And… and a big part of me doesn’t want to act towards her feelings for my Dad in the same way she did towards our feelings for one another when she first found out.”

“Hmm, that so, huh?” Abby hummed as she crossed her arms around my neck. “That’s very kind and grown up of you.”

“Is it?”

“Are you asking me if it is kind of you, grown up, or a mixture of both?" she fired back, her tone shifting to one that was ready for scolding me for putting myself down again.

“Sorry, it’s just… It feels a bit self-serving when I say that I want to… I don’t know, act as the bigger person? You know, since she wasn’t supportive of us at first. And kinda presumptuous too, if I’m being honest.”

She shook her head with an exasperated smile, She didn’t utter a word. She didn’t have to. I knew exactly that she was finding me needlessly complicated—and I definitely was, even for this situation, but she also understood where the feeling was coming from and that she still loved me for it.