The room filled with a sad melody. Music rang out as within the piano, small hammers struck their corresponding strings, sending the tune reverberating through the open room. I was enthralled by the way Van’s hands moved, effortlessly flying over the keys. The tune only lasted a few seconds. He’d only played a few bars and still, I recognized the complicated piece.

“Beethoven,” I said, my mouth still opened with awe.

“You have a good ear. ‘Moonlight Sonata.’”

“That was amazing. Why did you say you no longer play?”

“The answer to that question very well could be an example of what is not to be exposed in my memoir.” Van reached for the cover and pulled it down over the keys. “You’re welcome to play this piano whenever you want.”

“My ability is nothing compared to yours. Maybe listening to you play will help me think.”

“I’ll give you the Wi-Fi information. Feel free to stream any music you desire.”

Mentally I was making a list of the things I wanted to learn about Donovan Sherman. That list was growing by the second.

“Let me show you to your suite.”

As we began walking toward the front staircase, Van said, “I wasn’t planning on the job applicant living in my home. I never intended to have contact with the writer. I have notes and files. It was my plan to share the information and then allow the writer to pen the compilation.”

“What? The ad said to live on-site.”

“When deciding to begin this endeavor, I’d anticipated on-site to mean on my property. You asked how much land I have. It’s a little over seventy acres.” He took a deep breath. “You, Julia McGrath, have other attributes besides the writing of the memoir. In a rather selfish decision, I changed my plans, deciding I wanted you closer. However, in all fairness, if you have any misgivings about living here with me, there’s a guesthouse on my property not far away, and then also...” —he grinned— “well, you remember the cabin.”

My cheeks rose. “Yes, I remember the cabin. I also remember that it doesn’t have electricity. That would make charging my laptop difficult.”

“I’ll show you your suite. When I had this house refurbished, I did so with the idea that each suite was self-contained with a sitting room, bedroom, and en suite bathroom.” He pointed to the ceiling at least fifteen feet above. “Mine is upstairs closest to the garages. I’ll show you to the one at the farthest end of the south wing. Next to mine, it has the best view of the bay.”

Shall I look for a message in Van’s desire to have me farther away?

Then again, is the suite far when the other option is a guesthouse?

10. Van

Van