After seeing the sketches for the music room and the dining room, Filipe had called Catarina and asked her to start the plans for the interior decorating for the whole house. In the next month, a tentative routine took root between Catarina and Afonso.
On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, Senhor Francisco helped Afonso on common projects. On Mondays and Fridays, Afonso worked other tasks by himself.
Catarina became familiar with the house and its architectural qualities. The way the sun bathed the building throughout the day intrigued her, and she sketched various versions of each room on the ground floor and upstairs until she filled the sketch pad with details from every angle.
On Saturdays, Afonso drove her to markets in nearby towns, in particular a warehouse where she found most of her favorite pieces. Little by little, the plans became more complete, and her vision for each room would soon be more than just on paper. Maybe she’d get the courage to ask Filipe for a recommendation as an interior designer when she moved out. In any case, Catarina took pictures of each room in its “before” look. The start of her portfolio.
The swing had become one of her favorite spots and often, after dinner, Afonso would follow her to the large linden tree, where they watched the late sun spread its colors in a languorous setting.
On Wednesday, Catarina had been working on the old piano for almost two days. With Afonso on the property and far from the house, she stole away to the music room and pulled the cover off the piano. Dona Madalena had brought old sheets to protect the floor and, after her last trip to Castelo Branco, Catarina finally had all the ingredients for the natural furniture polish: olive oil, lemon juice, and lemon essential oil, mixed well in a spray bottle. Flannel rags turned out to be the perfect cloth for the job, and she worked in small sections, alternating between standing and sitting, taking breaks to walk and unfold her legs. Maybe the homemade furniture polish was not as effective as the commercial kind, but, in her present condition, the natural recipe was safer, and promised results just as glossy.
The piano tuner was coming this morning, and the furniture from the warehouse would be delivered in the afternoon. The Ford truck had been too small for the largest pieces, and Catarina had hired a moving truck.
When a loud knock sounded at the front door, Catarina rushed to get it.
A man with cropped gray hair carrying a weathered leather bag stood on the steps. “I’m Abílio Moreira, the piano tuner. Is this the right place? Are you Catarina Romano?”
She opened the door wide and let him in. “Yes, I am. This way, please.”
He walked with stooped shoulders, gazing around the entryway and admiring the skylight. “Fancy place you got here. I’m not feeling so bad about the travel fees.”
Catarina was, but she didn’t comment. Paying Senhor Moreira to come all the way from Coimbra to tune the piano was an expense that had taken her several days to justify. His travel fees alone cost almost as much as some people earned in a month. And those were people with jobs, people who actually earned money. She had neither a job nor a salary.
But she had Afonso. The thought snuck up on her. She had him as her friend, which was more than she could say of most anyone else for the past several years. Except for Filipe, who was family, and maybe felt some sort of duty toward her.
Afonso had been so kind and done so much for her. She wanted—needed—to do something in return. And so she’d managed to set aside enough of the precious euros from the sale of her jewelry to cover this one expense. The rest she would save toward the support of her baby.
Catarina wouldn’t be living at Filipe’s expense in the new year, maybe even before that. Not that he would kick her out, but she had a shred of pride left, however thin and feeble. Sacrificing her meager funds to do this one thing for Afonso meant more to her than all the expensive gifts she’d given Juan-Carlos. In her heart, she knew why, but Catarina pushed the feeling aside and concentrated on getting through the next few hours successfully.
“This is it.” She swung the door open and walked ahead to retrieve the spray bottle and rag.
The man approached the piano and set down his bag. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time.” His hand passed reverently over the wood. “Have you been polishing it? I hope you’re spraying the cloth and not the wood directly.”
“Yes, of course.” She did know that much, thanks to Google.
The man knelt and opened his bag of instruments. “It’ll take two hours, at least, if not more.” He started immediately, propping open the piano’s lid.
Catarina took her spray bottle and flannel rags and moved her polishing efforts to the banister on the grand staircase. It didn’t need it, having recently been revarnished. She used a clean rag and buffed the dark wood. From this position, she’d be able to see anyone who came through the front door or from the kitchen. Maybe it was foolish to hope Afonso would like her surprise, and even more foolish to spend her own money on the tuning, but how could she not?
Dona Madalena talked Catarina into a mid-morning snack, and Catarina easily gave in. The old lady reminded Catarina of her Romano grandmother, Avó Teresa, with her concern and her advice. Just like Avó Teresa, Dona Madalena offered her opinion and counsel whether Catarina asked for it or not. But the voice of experience was hard to argue with, and Catarina had learned enough difficult lessons in the past few months to know when to listen, even when she hadn’t asked.
An hour later, when Catarina took a bottle of water to the piano tuner, he called her over. “Do you see this sticker here?”
She leaned over to peek where he pointed. There was a name, a signature, and a date.
“It means this piano hasn’t been tuned in twenty-five years. Good thing it’s an instrument of quality.” He waved her off. “I should be done in another hour.”
When she returned, he’d began packing his tools. “Who’s the pianist? You or your husband?”
“Definitely not me. It’s a surprise for him.” Why did everybody assume she had a husband? Didn’t she look like she could be the independent type?
He rose, holding the bag. “I can guarantee you he’ll be surprised.” His hand rested on the wood. “It sounds better than new.” The pride in his voice was hard to miss. “Too bad I can’t stay to hear him play it.” He followed Catarina to the entry hall. “Tell him to make sure it doesn’t take another twenty-five years to tune it again.”
Catarina drew the cash from her pocket and paid him the remainder of the fees. So much money. Had she done the right thing? Only the anticipation of seeing—and hearing—Afonso’s reaction when he played gave her strength to know she wouldn’t regret hiring the tuner. It would be worth it.
She went back to polishing the rest of the piano and left the cover off so the wood could dry.
When Dona Madalena came to get her for lunch, Catarina was ready for a break. She was looking forward to seeing Afonso, but he didn’t come. Instead, Senhor Francisco asked his wife to pack two lunches, and he returned to the grounds.
Catarina took a short nap after lunch, and weird dreams plagued her sleep. When Dona Madalena knocked on her door an hour later, Catarina woke with a start.
“The delivery people are here. Do you want them to park at the front or at the back?”
“At the front, please.”
She took a few minutes to comb her hair and brush her teeth, hoping the sleep wrinkles on her face weren’t too noticeable.
When Catarina opened the front door, a woman with short hair stood on the steps. Behind her, at the back of the truck, two guys opened the latches to the double doors.
The woman held a clipboard in her hand. “I have a delivery for Catarina Romano.”
“That’s me.”
“My name is Joana. I’m from the warehouse, and I’m here to ensure the delivery goes smoothly,” the woman said. “This is such a large, expensive order, and I don’t want anything to go wrong. Will you show me where the pieces go?”
She had a friendly voice and a no-nonsense attitude, and Catarina felt at ease.
Catarina unlatched the front door and opened both sides flat against the wall. As the woman walked into the entryway, her eyes widened. “This house is fantastic.” Her admiration sounded in her voice.
Catarina opened the double doors to the dining room, then crossed the entry hall and did the same at the music room.
Joana turned to Catarina. “I can see you have excellent taste. The pieces you bought will really enhance these rooms.”
Catarina hoped Filipe would share the opinion when he saw the transformation.
Joana showed the order list to Catarina, and Catarina indicated where each piece of furniture would go.
For the next hour, Joana closely supervised the men as they unloaded and brought in the pieces Catarina had bought on previous trips—a console and a pair of chairs for the entry hall, a pair of upholstered chairs and a rug for the music room, a dining room set composed of a table for sixteen people with fourteen straight chairs and two chairs with armrests, and a two-meter-high gilded mirror.
Catarina stood to the side as Joana made sure that every piece was installed to Catarina’s wishes.
After the rug was unrolled in the music room, Catarina stepped back when they brought in the first chair. Some minutes later, the second chair came, and she directed the seating arrangement at an angle to the piano. The gilded mirror came last, anchored on the opposite wall. The chairs made the perfect place to sit while Afonso played. A wave of excitement rushed through her, and she could hardly wait to see his reaction when he found out the piano had been tuned.
Joana watched as Catarina brought in a pair of pillows she’d bought at another store. “I’m telling myself to keep my mouth shut, but I really can’t.”
“Excuse me?” Catarina asked.
“I’ve been looking for the perfect house to showcase some special pieces, and this is it.” Joana nodded to herself as she looked around. “Is there any way I could come another day to photograph some furniture for a catalog we’re working on?”
Catarina frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She couldn’t risk having any photos taken in the house.
“I promise we’d only photograph select pieces and nothing else,” Joana rushed to say. “And we’ll compensate you for your time, of course.”
The money would be nice. Any quantity would be an improvement on what Catarina had at the moment, especially after paying the piano tuner. “Would you be able to add the images to the deal?” Catarina’s portfolio would benefit greatly from professional images of the decorating she’d done.
Joana didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Do we have a deal then?”
Catarina should talk to Filipe first. Even though she was the one in charge of decorating, the house didn’t belong to her. “I can’t commit right now, but I promise to consider it seriously. It’s a really good offer.”
They walked to the entry hall. Outside in the driveway, the two men secured the latches on the now-empty truck.
Joana handed the clipboard to Catarina for her signature. “Is this your cell phone number?” Joana asked, pointing to the information at the top, and Catarina confirmed it. “I’ll be in touch then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Catarina.”
“You as well, Joana.”
After the truck left, Catarina locked the double doors. She turned around and smiled.
In the entry hall, the console and chairs already looked at home. The candlesticks she’d bought last week would complete the vignette.
But it was the music room that had her heart racing with anticipation. Would Afonso like the changes she’d made?
* * *
Afonso entered the kitchen with Senhor Francisco. Dona Madalena and Catarina sat at the table, both of them leaning over the tablet.
He sat down and within minutes, Dona Madalena had dinner served to Afonso and her husband. They didn’t wait to start. After the long day he’d had, he was famished. Several fence posts on the north end of the property had been down, and Senhor Francisco and Afonso had worked all day to fix them. He didn’t have any security cameras in the area, but it might not be a bad idea to install a few around the perimeter. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was testing his limits. Who else could it be than Anabela?
Catarina scooted her chair closer to him. “They had the furniture delivered today. All the large pieces we bought at the warehouse.”
Her face radiated happiness, and Afonso slowed down to watch her. “How did it go? Are you happy?”
She smiled at him. “Very happy. I can’t wait to show you.”
Afonso smiled back, unable to stop himself. “I can’t wait to see it.”
Catarina chatted about the furniture and how nice the delivery people had been. Afonso couldn’t remember seeing her this relaxed, and it warmed his heart to see her like this.
Once he was done eating, Afonso took his plate to the sink. “I’m taking a shower. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”
Catarina nodded, then picked up the tablet and showed it again to Dona Madalena.
He took the stairs to his bedroom instead of showering in the utility room off the kitchen.
When he returned, Catarina sat alone at the table.
“Where are the Silvas?”
“Senhor Francisco was tired, and they left a little earlier. Dona Madalena left food in the refrigerator if we want a supper.”
“Maybe later.”
Catarina stood. “Are you ready to come see the furniture?”
“Absolutely.” He followed her as she left the kitchen.
She rounded the staircase and stopped at the wall nearest to the dining room. “Do you remember the console?” She gestured with both hands. “What do you think?”
The piece fit as if it had been made for the space. “It looks great. And the candlesticks.”
She smiled. “They go great together, don’t they? I still need to find a mirror that will fit on the wall above the console.” She approached, as if she could see it there already. “If I can’t find one, I’ll have to search for an old frame and have a mirror custom fit to it.”
At the dining room, she swung open the double doors. “I have a lot to do in the dining room. But I think this table definitely sets the tone. And I love how the chairs complement it.”
Afonso approached the table and ran a hand over the top. “Did you clean it?”
“Just a dusting with a natural polish.”
“I thought I could smell something different.”
“Now just imagine a chandelier over the table. That will be my priority for my next shopping expedition.”
“You’ve been busy, Catarina.”
Her expression bloomed in a genuine smile. “You like it? Do you think Filipe will?”
“How can he not? You’re doing such a great job.”
“Wait till you see the music room.” She skipped ahead of him across the hall and opened the double doors.
The upholstered chairs she’d bought at the warehouse sat at an angle to the piano, anchored by a colorful rug.
Catarina had taken the cover off the piano, and the lid was propped up. The wood surface shone clean.
Afonso walked to it and stroked the top. “You polished the piano too.”
“I think a complete restoration would have been too much, but it looks a little better, doesn’t it?” Her uncertain tone brought his eyes up to her.
“It looks great. A resurfacing job would have taken away some of its character.”
She sat on the closest chair and tucked her feet to the side, leaning an elbow on the armrest. The seating arrangement was perfectly angled to the best advantage of someone watching the pianist.
Afonso chuckled. “Is that why you placed the chairs in this position?”
“The best seat in the house.” She shifted eagerly like an excited child. “You should sit down and play something.”
“Sim, senhora.” He pulled out the piano bench and lifted the lid. His fingers hovered over the keys as he went through the repertoire in his mind, all the pieces he knew by heart. “It’s kind of a cliché, but it’s still one of my favorites.” He flexed his fingers again. “Just keep in mind this piano doesn’t sound the best.”
“Are you stalling, Afonso?”
He absolutely was. Catarina had watched him play before, but this felt different and he couldn’t even explain it.
After taking a breath, he played the first measure and immediately stopped, raising an eyebrow. “Catarina?”
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips in reply. He rushed through the next few measures only to confirm what he heard—the piano had been tuned. The rich, deep sound and perfect pitch proved it.
He moved his hands to his knees and turned to her. “You had a piano tuner come out here?”
“I did. Did I surprise you?”
“Very much. How did you arrange it?”
Her expression turned playful. “With a phone call. Please, go on. Was that ‘Clair de Lune’ you were playing?”
“Yes, it was.” He resumed playing, appreciating the clarity and precision. How had Catarina paid for a tuner? He’d have to mention it to Filipe.
The look of delight on Catarina’s face kept him playing for almost an hour. Of all his years playing in the professional circuit, all the grand concert halls and VIP guests he’d played for—it was here, in this simple, half-furnished room, and for a woman healing from emotional scars he didn’t even know the depth of, that Afonso found himself at peace, pouring his soul into every note, hoping she could understand all the feeling each one carried.
From his heart to hers.