Chapter 8 - The Music in the Light
Six months later.
The winter had returned to Long Island Sound, covering the lawns of Ashford House in a thick, silent blanket of pure white snow.
Inside the house, the grand fireplaces were roaring, casting warm, golden light across the dark wood paneling, the velvet curtains, and the polished marble floors.
The east parlor was filled with warmth.
Standing near the tall windows was a massive Christmas tree, decorated with silver stars, glass angels, and hundreds of warm white lights that reflected in the high glass windows overlooking the frozen ocean.
In the center of the room sat the black Steinway grand piano.
Nolan sat on the long bench, dressed in a comfortable navy sweater, his sleeves pushed up. On his right sat Mae, her ring catching the warm light of the fire. And sitting directly between them, her small feet dangling two inches off the floor, was Nora.
She was four years old now. Her brown curls were tied with a red velvet ribbon, and her gray-green eyes were bright with excitement.
“Ready, Nora?” Nolan asked softly, resting his hands on the keys.
“Ready, Daddy!” Nora said, holding her fingers over the middle notes.
Mae smiled, leaning her shoulder against Nolan’s, her hand resting gently on his knee.
Nolan gave a soft count. “One... two... three.”
Together, their six hands began to play.
It was a simple holiday melody, quiet and slow, the notes rising through the high ceiling of Ashford House, echoing down the long hallways, past the portraits of old ancestors who had once lived in cold, silent formality, and out into the quiet snow outside.
No one was screaming. No one was hiding in the shadows. No one was afraid of dirtying the white marble floors.
When the last note faded into the quiet warmth of the parlor, Nora clapped her hands together with pure joy.
“We played it!” she cheered, jumping up and down on the bench. “We played the big song!”
Nolan caught her around her waist, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her nose until she giggled uncontrollably. “You played it perfectly, my sweet girl.”
May you like
Mae leaned over, resting her head against Nolan’s shoulder, her fingers intertwining with his.
Through the tall glass windows, the snow continued to fall softly over the quiet sea. Inside Ashford House, the piano was no longer a silent monument to grief or pride. It was just a home, filled with light, filled with truth, and filled at last with music that would never end.
