“Hi, Bella!” Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward stiffen at my side. I glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.
“You do smell nice, I never noticed before,” she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.
No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there — tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.
“Hello, Bella,” Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.
“Hello, Jasper.” I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. “It’s nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home,” I added conventionally.
“Thank you,” Esme said. “We’re so glad that you came.” She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.
I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward’s too-innocent denial when I’d asked him if the others didn’t like me.
Carlisle’s expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.
I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn’t really good — she only played for herself on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the “mom” persona I took for granted. She’d put me through lessons, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me quit.
Esme noticed my preoccupation.
“Do you play?” she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.
I shook my head. “Not at all. But it’s so beautiful. Is it yours?”
“No,” she laughed. “Edward didn’t tell you he was musical?”
“No.” I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. “I should have known, I guess.”
Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.
“Edward can do everything, right?” I explained.
Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.
“I hope you haven’t been showing off — it’s rude,” she scolded.
“Just a bit,” he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn’t understand, though Esme’s face seemed almost smug.
“He’s been too modest, actually,” I corrected.
“Well, play for her,” Esme encouraged.
“You just said showing off was rude,” he objected.
“There are exceptions to every rule,” she replied.
“I’d like to hear you play,” I volunteered.
“It’s settled then.” Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside him.
He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys.
And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.
Edward looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. “Do you like it?”
“You wrote this?” I gasped, understanding.
He nodded. “It’s Esme’s favorite.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m feeling extremely insignificant.”
The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.
“You inspired this one,” he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.
I couldn’t speak.
“They like you, you know,” he said conversationally. “Esme especially.”
I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.
“Where did they go?”
“Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose.”
I sighed. “They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett . . .” I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.
He frowned. “Don’t worry about Rosalie,” he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. “She’ll come around.”