5 hours ago
Moscow had been cold for a while, and she barely paid attention to the passing seasons. Months since the trip to America, then. Longer since St James. She had no idea what Jay usually did to celebrate Christmas, or if he even did. Most probably he did – she could well imagine turkey, tinsel and ugly sweaters. This year it was going to cut him either way, though. Them both being stuck in the apartment while he tried to paint on a smile sounded like some kind of hell if she was honest. Her grandfather had made it clear while she was in London that he fully expected her to join the family this year, not that she truly intended to, and she wouldn’t subject Jay to it either. In fact a drafty, half renovated castle with an open fire and no expectations or social niceties appealed far more. But then, she was always looking for that kind of escape. A thought for another time.
Natalie set aside her fork to open the gift. No mind was paid to the brief looks their way, if she even noticed at all. It was beautifully wrapped, complete with festive ribbon. Inside she discovered a music box in the shape of a piano; one she wasted no time in delicately lifting the lid to hear the tune it would play. Ludovico Einaudi’s Life greeted them over the soft din of the restaurant. Her expression softened as she listened, quiet for a long moment of appreciation before she closed it again.
“One of the greatest composers of our time,” she said. Few knew Natalie played the piano herself; she rarely made time for it these days, though it had been a rescue many times in her past – was in fact the way she had learned to harness the power. Music meant something to her, and Einaudi was one of her favourites. That Emily had noticed and remembered either of those things pressed a fragile warmth in her chest. Most of her life was lived behind a wall of privacy, and the feeling of being seen was unexpectedly touching. Her smile was soft but subtle, the quiet reaction of a woman used to the most delicate of feelings being the easiest to crumble.
“Thank you,” she added, sincere, though the moment was folded quite neatly away soon after and the easiness of her manner returned. She did notice the lingering pursed lip stares then – for the swearing, or for how long she’d allowed the music box to play. With a smirk, she tipped her glass, but otherwise paid no heed, just turned back to conversation with her friend.
Natalie set aside her fork to open the gift. No mind was paid to the brief looks their way, if she even noticed at all. It was beautifully wrapped, complete with festive ribbon. Inside she discovered a music box in the shape of a piano; one she wasted no time in delicately lifting the lid to hear the tune it would play. Ludovico Einaudi’s Life greeted them over the soft din of the restaurant. Her expression softened as she listened, quiet for a long moment of appreciation before she closed it again.
“One of the greatest composers of our time,” she said. Few knew Natalie played the piano herself; she rarely made time for it these days, though it had been a rescue many times in her past – was in fact the way she had learned to harness the power. Music meant something to her, and Einaudi was one of her favourites. That Emily had noticed and remembered either of those things pressed a fragile warmth in her chest. Most of her life was lived behind a wall of privacy, and the feeling of being seen was unexpectedly touching. Her smile was soft but subtle, the quiet reaction of a woman used to the most delicate of feelings being the easiest to crumble.
“Thank you,” she added, sincere, though the moment was folded quite neatly away soon after and the easiness of her manner returned. She did notice the lingering pursed lip stares then – for the swearing, or for how long she’d allowed the music box to play. With a smirk, she tipped her glass, but otherwise paid no heed, just turned back to conversation with her friend.
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