Anneliese
“I WASN’T SURE which bell to ring,” Carla said.
“You rang the right one.” Anneliese pulled the door further open to let Carla squeeze her bulk through. The old piano teacher had visibly aged. Her red hair was dusted with gray, and her curls were thinner than eight years ago.
“It’s good to see you, child.” Her enormous arms hugged Anneliese. It was like being smothered in soft pillows.
“The house is fabulous,” Carla said, her voice booming in the entrance hall.
Anneliese winced, having forgotten that Carla’s normal speaking volume was a shout. She lowered her own voice to a whisper, hoping Carla would take the hint. “Willem’s practice is through that door. We have the ground floor. His father and stepmother live upstairs.”
She gave Carla a quick tour of the tiny apartment, taking all of two minutes, and served tea and sandwiches at the kitchen table. They sat facing the garden. A scattering of purple flowers poked through a blanket of dead leaves. The open space above the canal was visible, but the water was hidden by a box hedge.
“When is the baby due?” Carla asked between mouthfuls.
“June.”
“How do you feel?”
“I’ve had some morning sickness. Par for the course.”
“Did you hear that Renata had twins?”
Anneliese’s mind wandered as Carla updated her on the marriages, babies, and divorces of her old schoolmates.
At noon Willem strode in. He looked especially handsome in his gray suit, lavender shirt, and navy tie, the colors turning his hazel eyes brown. He squeezed Anneliese’s shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and took a seat. She introduced him proudly, as if he were a cake she had baked.
“Would you like a sandwich?” Anneliese asked him.
“No, I can only stay a minute. I’m expecting a patient, but I didn’t want to miss meeting your piano teacher.”
He smiled at Carla as he reached for Anneliese’s hand. His touch sent a thrill of desire through her, reminding her of the things he had done to her in bed last night.
“I’m retired now.” Carla patted her limp curls and simpered. “But I gave piano lessons to the children in the village for forty years. Anneliese was one of my most talented students. Such a pity she stopped playing. Have you been to Noorddorp?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you met Tineke and Ray?”
“Yes, at the engagement dinner.” He glanced at Anneliese, and she felt her face grow hot.
She was running out of excuses. She didn’t want him to visit her provincial village, bereft of culture, taste, and sophistication. Or to visit the crappy little house in which she had grown up, with its nicotine-stained walls and sour memories. She didn’t want him to become better acquainted with Tineke and Ray. They had been on their best behavior at the engagement dinner, a bit cowed by the fancy dinner party on a boat. Still, they had made everyone uncomfortable with their blunt questions about Jurriaan’s disabilities, and they had managed to reveal that Anneliese had been adopted. In their own home, they would let down their guard. They wouldn’t be able to hide who they were, or to know they should.
Carla said, “Ray Bakker is a big wheel in Noorddorp. He manages the local car dealership.”
“He told me,” Willem said.
Carla leaned forward. “Anneliese tells me Louisa Veldkamp was your mother. I once took a group of my students to Groningen to see her perform. That was in the early nineties.”
“Louisa was in her heyday back then,” Willem said.
“I used the Veldkamp lesson book series to teach.”
Willem looked at his watch and stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Have a safe trip home, Carla.”
As soon as the door closed, Carla said, “You didn’t tell me he was so yummy. Rich, nice, and sexy. It’s obvious he adores you.”
Anneliese smiled, happy that Carla was impressed. She was a gossip and knew everyone in the village. In no time at all, the village would know how well Anneliese was doing. Betsy Wetsy had landed on her feet.
She was saving the best for last. “Do you want to see Louisa’s piano studio?”
Carla’s chest was heaving when they reached the bottom of the basement stairs. Anneliese unlocked the door and stepped aside as Carla sailed straight to the baby grand.
“Hers?” Carla said in a hushed voice.
“Yes. Would you like to play?”
Carla pushed back the bench and sat down. There was a grace in her movements despite her bulk. Her long, thick legs reached the pedals easily. Anneliese stood next to her and listened to her play. The expression on her old teacher’s face was nothing short of rapturous. A half hour later, Carla gently closed the fallboard and gave a deep, contented sigh.
Anneliese said, “Louisa’s original manuscripts are in the cabinet. Come. I’ll show you.” She yanked on Carla’s arm and helped pry her off the bench.
Together they sorted through the music books and sheet music, Carla gasping in delight at the treasure trove.
Anneliese said, “I want to give you something.” On the bottom shelf was a stack of autographed lesson books. Anneliese lifted off the top one and handed it to Carla. “It’s signed by Louisa. Look on the title page.”
“I can’t accept this. It must be valuable to a collector.”
“No one will miss it.”
Carla held the lesson book in one hand, as though weighing it, and pressed the other hand against her chest. She consulted her watch.
“I have to catch my train.”
“There’s still time. I want to ask you for a favor.”
Carla glanced at the book and shifted her weight from one orthopedic shoe to the other.
Anneliese said, “I want to play piano again. I want to get back to my previous level. Will you give me lessons?”
“How long has it been, dear? Eight years? Playing the piano isn’t like riding a bike. Your technical skills will have regressed. You’ll have to practice consistently for months, maybe much longer.”
“I’m willing to do that.”
“Why?”
“Willem’s a respected psychiatrist. His father is a brilliant inventor. Katja is a novelist. I’m nothing. The only talent I have is playing the piano.”
“Honey, you’re not nothing. Willem loves you. Anyone can see that. And you’re expecting a baby. Look at this house. You’ve done well for yourself. I always said Anneliese Bakker had too much class for Noorddorp.”
“Please, Carla.”
A silence.
“Why didn’t you return my calls?” Carla asked, sounding aggrieved.
“What are you talking about? What calls?”
Carla blew out her lower lip. “After Daan passed, you quit showing up for your lessons. I telephoned your house. Repeatedly. I left messages with Tineke. I wanted you to resume the lessons. Finally, I gave up.”
“Tineke didn’t tell me.” Anneliese could guess why. Ray had complained about the cost of the lessons even as he showered Daan with gifts, including a new racing bicycle the week before his death. And later there were funeral expenses to pay.
“Water under the bridge,” Carla said, looking at her watch again. “I’m retired, Anneliese. Besides, the commute is four hours round trip.”
“I can pay you well.”
“It’s not the money. I don’t have the energy, child. There must be dozens of excellent teachers in Amsterdam.” Carla held out the autographed music book, and when Anneliese refused to take it, she laid it reverently on top of the baby grand.
Anneliese followed Carla’s ponderous steps and jiggling hips up the basement stairs and through the hall to the front door. She saw her old piano teacher in a new light. Carla had become the embodiment of Noorddorp’s failures.
“I’ll call you a taxi,” Anneliese said.
“The tram’s cheaper.”
“I’m paying. I insist.”
Five minutes later, Carla stepped into the taxi, and Anneliese waved from the curb until the car turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
She could spend the duration of the pregnancy lounging in bed, eating bonbons if she wanted, but if she practiced the piano every day, she could get back to her previous level by the time the baby was born. The family would be impressed. All she had to do was follow the guidance in Louisa’s lesson books.