from the room. Across the hall from the kitchen, tucked behind the dining room,
a small box of a room seemed to serve no purpose. Shrugging, Christopher led
her to the staircase at the very back of the building and up steep stairs with a pretty, if slightly threadbare black and red rose runner.
Upstairs were two small bedrooms and one large one. In the attic, two even
smaller bedrooms would suit the yet-to-be hired cook-maid and Christopher's
man of all work. They returned downstairs to the main floor and stood in the hallway. Christopher turned a slow circle. “I think this one will do,” he told her.
“I agree,” she replied, enjoying the coziness of the house. Very little draft seeped in, and even without a fire, the inside felt warm.
“Unfortunately, it's not furnished,” her husband continued.
“We'll work on that,” she replied. “What comes with you from your rooms?”
“Everything, but one can hardly furnish a home with a sofa, two chairs, a table and a bed,” he said.
Katerina heard something of a whine in his voice. Seems my husband does not enjoy shopping. Perhaps I should take the burden from him. How exciting to
pick out furniture for my own home. “True, but it's enough to get started, and we can work on the rest later.” She trailed her fingertips down his arm and grasped
his hand.
“There's only one thing I don't like about this house,” he added.
“What's that?”
“Come on.” He led her to the little room near the kitchen. “What a waste,” he
said, waving at the plain plaster walls.
“Oh, but it's perfect!” she exclaimed.
He gave her a confused look. “It is? What is this room to you, love?”
“It's a music room! What a pity you don't have a pianoforte. It would sit right
there, between the two windows, with red velvet draperies and a painting
above." She whirled around imagining the rest of the space. "Two armchairs to match the draperies, some small tables, and a bookshelf filled with songbooks and sheet music floor to ceiling."
“A music room?” Understanding dawned on Christopher's face. “Of course.
You do need one, don't you? Don't fret for a moment, love. I know just how to
acquire a pianoforte for you. I won't let your music get away from you. But first,
let's secure this place before someone snaps it up.”
“Yes, let's.” Katerina bubbled with excitement over her new home. My home.
Mine and Christopher's. In this house, they would begin forging their marriage.
Hopefully, the shadows of her childhood would fall away. It was such a lovely
house, and she adored it.
The signing of papers and paying of deposits only took a short time. Soon, Christopher escorted his wife down Bond Street, where the shops crowded
closely one upon the other. At their first stop, he bought her a warm winter wrap.
Snuggling gratefully inside the folds of amethyst fabric, she took her husband's
arm and he led her to an auspicious-looking shop called Channing & Company.
Of course, Katerina had heard of them. Not only did they make well-known instruments, but they also published sheet music. All serious musicians knew the
Channing name.
Inside, the room smelled of wood and wax; the comforting aroma of pianos.
A salesman with dignified silver wings in his dark hair approached the couple.
“Hello, sir, madam. How can I help you?”
Katerina looked at the serious man and began to feel nervous. What do I know about buying a piano? Nothing. Anxiety twisted her insides.
