"I believe you're right," Seth said, and punched in his father's number. After passing his mother the phone, he walked out of the room.
He had a phone call to make, too, he thought. To Lia. Although he had no idea what he was going to say.
He could start with I'm sorry. For hiding behind the past. For allowing it to dictate his life. For hurting her.
Five minutes later, Eleonore joined him in the kitchen, where he was gazing sightlessly into the garden. She said stiffly, "Your father and I are meeting in fifteen minutes on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum. We're going for a walk in Central Park, then he's taking me out for lunch."
"A date," Seth said naughtily.
She sniffed. "I guess I should thank you."
"I guess you should." He grinned, picked her up and whirled her around; she was lighter than he'd expected. "Have fun. Eat big globs of whipped cream. Don't forget to tell Dad you love him."
"Seth, put me down!"
She looked so scandalized, Seth started to laugh; and saw, to his great satisfaction, that Eleonore was smothering a smile. "Do you want me to call a cab?" he asked.
"I shall walk," Eleonore announced. "Years ago, your father used to give me a single yellow rose every month on the anniversary of our wedding. I might buy him one. On the way."
Seth kissed his mother on both cheeks. "I think that's a fine idea," he said thickly.
Staring at his shirtfront, she said rapidly, "I did a terrible thing-the abortion, I mean. But when I was a little girl my mother went through pregnancy after pregnancy, and each one dragged her further down … I should never have destroyed those letters, either. It was very wrong of me."
Her eyes were wet. Seth said huskily, "Sometimes tears can be more precious than apologies, Ma."
She looked him right in the eye. "I've wasted a great deal of my life, Seth. Don't do the same. I'd prefer to be called Mum, not Ma." Then she marched out the front door and down the steps.
Her advice was stunning in its simplicity.
All he had to do was take it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AS SETH went back inside, his cellphone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket, afraid it might be Allan saying he'd changed his mind.
"Seth?" Lia gasped. "Oh, Seth, is that you?"
His heart closed with terror. "What's wrong? Lia, what's the matter?"
"I'm in a terrible-just a minute."
He heard garbled voices in the background. Then she came back on. "I don't know-"
"Marise-has something happened to her? For God's sake, Lia, answer me."
"I would if you'd stop interrupting! Marise is fine, she's staying at Suzy's. Seth, I was so upset by the reviews that I left my violin on the back seat of a cab." Her voice wavered. "My priceless violin. My Strad."
In a great surge of relief that it was only a violin, Seth said, "Where are you?"
"I'm in another cab. Going to a pawnshop. That's where the first cab went after it let me off." Quickly she gave him the address.
"You're not to go there on your own-that's a really rough area of town. Stop the cab now, Lia, and I'll catch up with you."
"No way! I could never replace that violin, its tone is gorgeous. Indescribable. Plus it's worth a ton of money-I've got to find it."
His fiery Lia was back, in full force. "Give me the address of the pawn shop, I'll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me there-that's an order."
"Huh," she said, sounding slightly less upset. "It'll depend whether I get the violin back or not."
He was stuffing his wallet in his pants pocket and going out the door as he spoke. "My car's at the garage. I'll have to take a cab. Hell's teeth, Lia, don't put your life at risk-it's only a violin."
"Only?" she repeated incredulously.
"You're a thousand times more important to me than any violin-do you hear me? I can see a cab, I've got to go."
He flagged the cab down and tersely gave the address of the pawn shop. "An extra fifty bucks if you can get me there in fifteen minutes."
Settling back in the seat, Seth punched in Lia's number on his cell phone. An impersonal male voice said, "Your party is unavailable at this time. Please try again later."
Cursing under his breath, Seth jabbed the numbers again, only to get the same recording. She'd turned her cell phone off.
Or had someone done it for her, against her will? Had she run into trouble at the pawnshop?
As the cab whipped across two lanes of traffic, Seth was thrown sideways in the seat. Two words were drumming through his veins. Too late. Too late.
What if he was too late? What if something had happened to Lia?
He couldn't bear to lose her. His life would be meaningless without her.
Bathed in a cold sweat, he tried her number again. He could get to hate that guy's voice, he thought viciously, not as much as blinking as the cab squeezed between a garbage truck and a bus. Where was Lia? She had to be safe. She had to be.
In exactly thirteen minutes, the cabbie drew up outside a seamy little shop on an even seamier street. "You want me to wait?" he asked. "This don't look so great."
"Yeah … I'll be right out."
Seth ran for the door, which was weighted with heavy metal bars. He went inside and knew instantly that Lia wasn't there. He said to the proprietor, a man of indeterminate age who looked as though he'd been exposed to every vice humanity was capable of, "A woman was just here, looking for a violin. Where did she go?"
"What's it worth to you?"
"If I had more time, you and I could have a fascinating discussion on that subject." Seth banged his fist on the counter. "Tell me where she went."
"Okay, okay." The proprietor named a street in a nearby Puerto Rican neighborhood. "Some fella bought the violin. Real quick turnaround."
"If she's not there," Seth said pleasantly, "I'll be back. You'd better hope she's there."
The cab was still waiting. Seth gave the new address, bracing himself as they screeched around corners and edged through gaps that looked far too narrow. The vehicle jerked to a halt near the end of a street. "This is it," the cabbie said dubiously.
Seth got out. Over the racket from a construction site and the shrill voices of kids playing on the street, he heard, unmistakably, the sound of a violin. He said to the cabbie, thrusting some money through the window, "Another fifty if you'll wait."
"Sure thing." The cabbie leaned back, tipping his hat over his eyes.
Seth ran down the street. The passionate lilt of a Spanish dance echoed among the buildings, with their rusted fire escapes and cluttered sidewalks. He rounded a pizza joint, and saw Lia standing in front of a blue metal Dumpster, wearing a flowered skirt and a scoop-necked T-shirt, her beloved violin tucked under her chin. A small crowd surrounded her: men, women and children, stamping their feet, dancing and singing.
Briefly he sagged against the nearest wall, his breath rasping in his throat. She was safe. She hadn't been mugged, raped, murdered or kidnapped: any of the dreadful fates that imagination and terror had been conjuring up in his mind.
Who else but Lia would play her heart out on a windy street corner for people who probably couldn't afford even the cheapest of seats for one of her concerts?
Straightening, he walked toward her. She saw him coming, gave him a gamine grin and, with a grandiloquent flourish, finished the dance. The crowd burst into cheers and clapping.
When he reached her, she was still smiling. "Hi, Seth," she said. "I got my violin back."
"So you did." Holding her gaze, Seth got down on one knee on the grimy sidewalk. Her toenails were now painted a vibrant pink, to go with her fuchsia-colored shirt.
A fascinated silence fell, in which he heard, like faraway birds, the cries of the street children. He said formally, "Lia d'Angeli, I love you. Te quiero. Te amo. I've loved you ever since that night in Paris eight years ago. I love you with all my heart and all my soul. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I'll love you for all our tomorrows."
Lia had lowered her violin. She said blankly, "You're kidding."
"I've never been more serious in my life."
"Then you've lost it."
"Stop arguing-or I might change my mind."
"But you said you'd never fall in love."
"I was wrong, I was a fool. Bufón. Idiota. I came to my senses this morning." His voice cracked. "Tell me I'm not too late. That you still love me and you'll marry me, be the bride of my heart."