Mia banged the antique lion’s head, heard skipping footsteps coming downstairs. The large door opened and Juliet Ash Calley herself appeared. An older man dressed in a beautiful black suit materialized behind her. She turned to him. “I’ll see to Ms. Briscoe, Weldon, thank you.”

A butler. Well, of course.

Weldon nodded his iron-gray head and melted away.

Juliet Ash Calley held out a competent hand with long tapered fingers, short buffed nails, and shook Mia’s gloved one. “I’m Juliet Calley and you’re Mia Briscoe, right?”

Mia gave her a warm smile, difficult because her face was so cold.

“Come in, come in, quickly, before you’re frozen to the bone.”

Mia stepped inside and Juliet quickly closed the front door, flipped the dead bolt, and turned, shivered. “I think Admiral Perry would be at home here today. Mother’s sleeping, so your timing is perfect. I admit I was surprised to hear a reporter wanted to speak to me, and not about music but about Alex Harrington. I haven’t been part of his life for over two years now. Let me take your coat.”

Juliet hung Mia’s winter gear on an old-fashioned coat-tree, and said, “Come into the living room and we can hunker down in front of the fire Weldon always lights for me when I practice.”

Mia followed Juliet Ash Calley out of the dim entrance hall and into a large living room filled with extraordinary light even on this grim March day. Old and gracious was Mia’s impression of the large rectangular room, all its English antiques looking settled and comfortable, everything in the room a part of the whole. A twelve-foot ceiling made the room seem even more spacious. The walls were painted a soft cream, and pale-blue-patterned wallpaper framed the front bow windows. But the focal point was the shiny black eleven-foot Steinway grand piano. Mia said, “I’ve listened to some of your recordings. I remember sitting back, closing my eyes, and letting your amazing Scarlatti melt away every bit of stress. I got right back to work, whistling.” Mia pointed at the beautiful instrument. “You grew up with this Steinway?”

“Yes. It was originally my grandmother’s. She was an amazing musician, but she didn’t wish to pursue a career. Now the piano is mine.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom had lessons, but she always said they didn’t take and my grandmother nodded, sadly. I’ve always found talent genes to be very unpredictable. Believe me, I’m grateful they came together for me.”

Mia waved her hand around the living room. “There’s such peace in this room. Do you think you’ll live here someday?”