July 2004
Louisa
LOUISA TRAVELED SO often that she packed on autopilot, which meant she might forget something important. She ticked off the items on her checklist: sedatives, earplugs, birth control pills.
Her two enormous suitcases lay open on the king-size bed. She was going to teach at a summer school for gifted young pianists. Willem should have been one of them, but after the little incident with the metronome, he had refused to take another lesson. She had tried everything—beaten him, starved him, locked him in the studio. Nothing worked. He was stubborn, and now it was much too late. His talent was dead on the vine.
A faint rustling reminded her that Katja was lounging in the window seat like a sulky teenager. Her face was pale and her eyelids were swollen with sleep.
“Get your feet off the cushion,” Louisa snapped.
Katja gave a jolt and took her time unfolding her legs.
Louisa placed her hands on her hips. “If something’s the matter, spit it out.”
Katja blew out her breath in an exaggerated huff.
Louisa said, “I didn’t spill the wine on purpose.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“My top is ruined.”
“Buy a new one.” Louisa rummaged in her large designer handbag, pulled out a fistful of bills, and tossed them into Katja’s lap.
The bills lay there for a minute. She counted them and shoved them into the pocket of her shorts. “You treat me like a servant.”
“I don’t.”
“You expect me to cook and clean at the summerhouse.”
“It’s not as if you were otherwise gainfully employed.”
“A job will turn up.”
“You can always come work for me. You must know, Katja, how fond I am of you.”
“I guess.”
Louisa slipped a blue silk dress from its hanger and held it against her chest. “Do you think Roberto will like it?”
She knew Katja’s answer would be yes. The fabric’s rich shade of blue enhanced the color of her eyes. Roberto said that he could swim in her eyes, that they were twin azure seas. She smiled at the memory.
“Who’s Roberto?”
“He’s the good-looking bass player I met in Madrid.”
“What happened to Giovanni?”
“That’s finished,” Louisa said, turning away because she didn’t want Katja’s pity. She folded the blue dress and laid it carefully in the suitcase that still had free space.
“Since when?”
“A while ago. He wants to work on his marriage.” Louisa didn’t know if that was the truth or if he had found someone new, someone younger.
“You’re still wearing the necklace he gave you.”
Louisa reached up and fingered the gold piano pendant. Giovanni had commissioned a jeweler in Milan to design it especially for her. “I like it. That’s all,” she said, forcing a light tone.
“Is Roberto going to Lake Como too?” Katja asked, switching subjects.
“For a few days.”
Katja frowned her disapproval.
“What?” Louisa demanded.
“Hendrik will be devastated if he finds out.”
“He won’t find out.”
Katja’s loyalty to Hendrik was annoying, but it was a loyalty that had limits. Katja would never betray her. They had too much dirt on each other. Even as a child, Katja had been a sneaky little thing. She listened at doors, eavesdropped on conversations, and scribbled away in her notebooks as if she were recording it all for posterity. Louisa had searched countless times for the notebooks, but she’d never discovered their hiding place. She felt queasy whenever she imagined a tabloid reporter getting hold of them.
“Be a doll, Katja, and close the suitcases.” Brushing her hair with an ornate silver hairbrush, Louisa glided to the door. “Willem! Jurriaan! Come here.”
A minute later, Willem knocked on the doorjamb, Jurriaan close behind, stepping on his brother’s heels. Jurriaan eyed the hairbrush warily. She felt a stab in the heart. He had no reason to be afraid of her. She had never hit him or even yelled at him. By the time Jurriaan was nine months old, it was clear something was dreadfully wrong. He didn’t turn over or sit up when he should have, whereas Willem met his developmental milestones early.
She had sued the doctor and the hospital for malpractice but lost the case. The judge ruled Jurriaan’s disabilities were because of an unpreventable accident at birth. It was a terrible blow. Louisa Veldkamp was a winner, not a loser, and the defeat begged the question: Whose fault was it?
The fact was, she had failed to deliver Jurriaan safely into the world, and he could never reach the promise locked in his genes. But he was sweet and gentle and always did his best, which was more than she could say for Willem. She tucked the hairbrush into her carry-on bag, smiled at Jurriaan, and clapped her hands.
“Okay, boys. Take my suitcases downstairs, and tell your father the taxi will be here in five minutes.”
Downstairs, Hendrik, Katja, and the boys lined up behind the suitcases.
Louisa smoothed her skirt before speaking. “Katja will be in charge of housekeeping. I’ll join you at the summerhouse on the fifteenth of August.”
Hendrik’s mop of thick black hair looked like a wig, but it was all his and firmly rooted to his scalp. He stepped forward and pecked her cheek, his lips cool and dry, reminding her of last night’s obligatory lovemaking. For a moment, she indulged in the memory of Roberto’s hot, greedy mouth on hers and his strong, youthful body.
“Have a safe trip,” he said.
Katja inspected the green polish on her fingernails, her chin tucked into her neck. Jurriaan gave Louisa a fierce hug. Willem kissed her cheek and stepped back in line, like a soldier giving a salute. She studied him and was gratified her gaze could still make him squirm. Was Willem glad she was going away for a month? Maybe ecstatic was the right word. Teenagers were programmed to hate their mothers—something to do with DNA, hormones, and undeveloped brains. She was sure that one day he would come to appreciate his strict upbringing. Boys needed a firm hand, and Hendrik wasn’t up to it.