New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [208]
She put her arm on his. “I know, Frank. I understand that it wouldn’t be easy. But you are also a good Christian. I didn’t marry you just for your money,” she added with a smile.
And I didn’t marry you, he thought to himself, to have you interfere with my making it. As the cab took them home, he said nothing more, but he sensed that his wife was determined about this business. In more than ten years of marriage, he and Hetty had never had a serious quarrel, and he wasn’t sure what it would be like if they did.
At about the time when Frank and Hetty Master had ascended the Observatory, Mary O’Donnell had prepared to leave her friends. They had spent such a pleasant afternoon, the four of them: Mary and Gretchen, and Gretchen’s little brother Theodore and cousin Hans.
Mary was fond of little Theodore. He was five years younger than Gretchen, and his blue eyes were darker than hers, and set very wide apart. If his sister was blonde, he’d inherited his father’s curly brown hair. And from an early age, he’d possessed a remarkable sense of his own identity. When he was five, a lady in the shop, meaning only kindness, had asked him: “Do people call you Teddy?” Theodore had shaken his head. “Why not, dear?” she’d asked. “Because,” he had answered solemnly, “I do not wish it.” By the age of ten, he’d also announced that he wouldn’t be following his father in the chocolate business. “What will you do, Theodore?” the family had asked him. “Something with no chocolate in it,” he’d said. This had displeased his mother considerably, but his father had been more understanding. “Leave him be,” he had said. “Anyway, this isn’t such a good business.” Gretchen and Mary usually took Theodore with them, even though he was so much younger.
But Hans was another matter. He’d been a distant figure when Mary was young, though Gretchen would speak of him, so Mary knew that he was serious and worked long hours for the piano-maker. Once or twice she’d caught sight of him, but there wasn’t much reason for them to meet, and Gretchen certainly wasn’t going to bring him to the O’Donnell household.
Mary had been out walking with Gretchen one day, after she’d been working for the Masters a couple of months, when her friend had said she wanted to call in at her cousin’s place of work. They hadn’t stayed long, but Mary had had a good chance to observe him. Hans was still in his early twenties, a tall, slim young man whose sandy hair was already receding, and who wore small, gold-rimmed spectacles. He was obviously busy, but friendly enough. Gretchen asked him to play something for them on one of the pianos. “He’s very good,” she said. “They ask him to show off the pianos for the customers.” But Hans told them he couldn’t just then, so they left. He was obviously very serious about his work. Mary liked that.
A week later, Mary just happened to be passing the piano store and decided to look in. At first Hans didn’t remember who she was, but when she told him, he smiled, and showed her the piano he was working on. She asked a few questions, and he explained what wood was used, how it was molded and put together. Then, taking her to another piano that was finished, he showed her how it was tuned.
He talked very quietly, looking at her gravely from time to time through his gold-rimmed glasses. And maybe it was just to get rid of her politely, but at the end, he went over to the best piano in the store and, sitting down at it, began to play.
Mary didn’t know much about music, though she liked to sing. She’d heard people