Chapter 17 The Summoning
The Summoning
Lessons with Anton
My talk with Gwen leaves me feeling more hopeful as I fall asleep. I drift into a dream where I’m walking down an aisle holding an exquisite bouquet of flowers with my father beside me.
“You’re radiant, Sophie girl,” he whispers proudly.
Overflowing with joy, I confess to him, “I’ve never been this happy.”
My heart melts when my father winks at me.
Bursting with happiness, I turn back to look into the eyes of the man I’m about to marry…
I wake from the dream with a start and lie in bed with a goofy smile on my face. And then reality creeps in…and I’m hit once more with the reality that my father is dead.
My daddy will never walk me down any aisle.
But it felt so real…
My father’s presence seems so close that I swear I can smell his aftershave.
My mind struggles to accept that he’s gone, and a moan rips through my lungs as his death hits me full in the chest—just as it did that night when my mother told me he was gone. My tears refuse to stop as grief seizes me, and I end up going through an entire box of tissues before it’s over.
I’m completely wiped out and succumb to the dark abyss of sleep, falling into a dead slumber until the morning.
It’s disconcerting to wake up to a brand new day, still wrestling with the fresh wound my grief has inflicted on me. Nobody can understand how the pain of his loss still breaks me even after so many years.
I drag myself to the shower and begin my morning routine, wondering how I’m going to get through the day.
Using my phone, I play a music list I created to cheer me up and distract me from my misery.
While brushing my teeth, I get a text and glance down, expecting it to be from Gwen.
But I’m startled to see it’s from Anton, the man with the piano.
I slowly set my toothbrush down and spit into the sink, a sense of trepidation creeping up my back.
Finally, I pick up the phone and read his text:
I’m in town unexpectedly. It’s short notice but I wanted to ask if we can meet for a piano lesson today.
I frown as I check my schedule, already knowing I’m fully booked. There is only one way I can make it work, and it’s going to be tight.
Still…I do owe Anton a lesson.
I can squeeze you in at six tonight. But I will need to end our lesson early so I can change before my class starts.
He’s quick to respond.
Excellent. See you at six.
I set my phone down, feeling excited…and nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve taught an adult with zero piano experience.
Not having a lot of time to spare before my first lesson of the day, I search through my old trunk full of sheet music for simple songs that might be appropriate, stuffing them into my leather satchel before I leave.
Moving through the day, from student to student, I spend my short breaks sorting through the stack of sheet music I brought with me, trying to decide on the best song to begin with. It can’t be childish and has to be classy like the man I’ll be teaching.
After second-guessing myself multiple times, I finally settle on the classical piece Minuet in G Major on my way to the Luxe Escape.
I smile in relief when I pull up to the valet parking.
I feel surprisingly grateful. Having a full day of lessons and this unexpected meetup has kept me from dwelling on my broken heart.
But my nerves start up again when I go to the front desk and inform Chase that I’ve arrived early to teach a piano lesson.
“I was informed,” he replies, raising his eyebrows as he stares at me. “I had no idea you were a famous pedagogue.”
I chuckle self-consciously, muttering, “I’m not famous…”
“No need to be modest, Miss Lane.” He bites back a knowing smile as he hands me a special keycard. “I was instructed to tell you to keep this for future lessons.”
The couple checking in to the right of me looks me over with interest, and I realize they must think I’m getting special “solo lessons” from a Dom.
I grin at the two as I take the card from Chase. Before I hurry to the elevator, I flash the gold card so they can see it when I hand it to the attendant. I find it amusing to be the focus of their envy when I’m only going to teach piano.
I engage in nervous chatter with the attendant as we head to the top floor. But when the elevator opens and I find myself staring at the red doors, I experience a moment of hesitation.
Anton offered to sponsor my training in exchange for these piano lessons…and I just crashed and burned last night. I have no idea what I’m going to do if he asks how my classes are going.
I can’t lie, but I don’t want to disappoint him, either.
Ringing the doorbell, I stand there nervously. The doors open, and I see Maxim waiting to greet me. “Good evening, Miss Lane. He’s waiting for you in the music room.”
“Thank you,” I squeak. Then, taking a breath, I start toward the room.
Stopping in my tracks, I look back at the man.
Tilting his head questioningly, he asks, “Yes?”
“I want to thank you for your help with my car.”
Maxim nods and states curtly, “It was my pleasure.”
Fighting my mounting nerves, I continue toward the music room to find Anton standing beside the magnificent “Pictures at an Exhibition” piano. I’d forgotten just how beautiful it was.
A slow smile spreads across his lips the moment he sees me, and my heart flutters a little.
“Lovely to see you again, Miss Lane.”
I blush profusely and hold out my hand to shake his. He takes it but then turns it to kiss the back. “Thank you for accommodating me. I apologize for the last-minute nature of this lesson.”
“Of course,” I answer, charmed by his natural charisma and elegant manner. I set my satchel down beside the piano bench. “Since we are short on time, why don’t we get started?”
“Let’s.”
I sit down on the red cushioned bench and name the keys as I show him the C major scale and explain how to place his fingers. “Whenever you practice, this is an excellent way to begin.”
I play the scale slowly several times, naming each key as I go up it. He watches with interest, nodding his head.
“Now it’s your turn,” I announce, getting up from the bench.
Anton sits down, his powerful hands slowly moving over the keys as he struggles to get the finger placement right.
“May I?” I ask, gesturing to the bench.
“Please.” He scoots over to make room.
I find it distracting to be so close to the man, and out of nowhere, a giggle bursts from my lips. I immediately clear my throat, pretending it didn’t happen.
Placing my fingers on the piano keys, I tell him, “Follow me.”
We play the keys together, and I describe the trickier finger movements as we move up the scale. Anton continues to make mistakes, but he wears a look of deep concentration as he repeats what I do until he can do it without missing a key.
“You’re doing great,” I say with admiration, impressed by how quickly he’s picked it up. “Now that you have the finger placement, you’ll want to concentrate on timing. Keep the tempo slow, smooth, and precise. Once you have that under control, we’ll increase the tempo.”
“Show me.”
I blush, feeling uncharacteristically giddy sitting beside such a powerful man while my hands glide over the keys of his multi-million-dollar piano.
After I’m done, he announces, “I would like to learn a song.”
I smile and pick up my satchel. “I’ve got several to choose from, but this is the perfect one to begin with.” Setting the sheet music on the golden music rest, I ask, “Do you know how to read music?”
I’m pleasantly surprised when he says he can, but then goes on to explain, “As a boy, I was trained on the viola, but I never cared for the instrument.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. However, this is going to help our lessons progress much faster.” I nod to the sheet music and inform him, “Bach used this piece to teach his wife piano.”
Seconds after I begin playing the graceful and upbeat song, Anton growls. “Nyet!”
I immediately stop and say apologetically, “You don’t like it?”
“That song is for sissies.”
My jaw drops. I’ve never heard classical music described that way before, and I’m surprised by how offended I am by it.
“This is the song I must learn.” He plunks out four notes with force.
I frown and ask him to play them again. Furrowing my brow, saying in disbelief, “You want to learn ‘O Fortuna?’”
“Da,” he states emphatically.
“That song is pretty advanced.”
“I don’t care.”
I sigh, thrown off by his odd request. “I don’t have the sheet music with me.”
“But can you play it?”
“Of course.”
He abruptly stands up and gestures to the keys. “Please, indulge me.”
I reposition myself on the bench and take a deep breath. “O Fortuna” is a demanding song starting with the very first chords. I play the haunting intro of the song as the piano vibrates from the intensity of the simple melody.
Anton closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, murmuring to himself, “Da…”
The song obviously means something to him, which I respect.
However, I’m uncertain if I can teach someone unfamiliar with the instrument such a complex and nuanced song.
I worry that once he discovers how challenging it is, he will quit and never touch the piano again—which would gut me as a teacher.
When Anton opens his eyes again, he states, “Teach me those beginning chords.”
Against my better judgment, I slide over and show him the three octave bass notes for his right hand.
He struggles in the beginning but seems to catch on quickly.
Once he has them down, I show him the more complicated four elements for the right hand.
When it takes him much longer to get the finger placement right, I can see him growing frustrated with himself.
Remembering what it was like for me as a beginner, I encourage him, “When I started out, I would think of the keys as an extension of my hand. Try to feel the music as your fingers flow over the keys.”