His companion looked toward him.
“What?”
“That technique.”
“Elena Vasquez.”
“Juilliard?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Hartford watched Emma shape another phrase.
“Completely.”
Richard heard again.
He stepped toward Hartford.
“Professor, I appreciate enthusiasm, but perhaps we should let the girl finish her little performance.”
Hartford turned slowly.
“Little?”
Richard smiled.
“You know what I mean.”
Hartford looked at him as if discovering something unpleasant on his shoe.
“No.”
“I don't.”
Then he returned his attention to Emma.
Richard stood there.
Dismissed again.
Emma’s hands began aching badly now.
She could feel old calluses had softened.
A sharp sting opened on one finger.
She did not stop.
Her father’s voice lived inside her memory:
“Finish honestly.”
Not perfectly.
Honestly.
She drove toward the climax.
The room became absolutely still.
No silverware.
No whispers.
No phones speaking.
Only piano.
Richard’s face had gone pale.
At last he said:
“That’s enough.”
Emma continued.
Richard stepped toward the instrument.
“I said that's enough.”
Hartford moved between them.
“Do not touch that piano.”
Richard stared.
“This is my hotel.”
Hartford’s voice remained calm.
“And right now you are the least important person in this room.”
A gasp traveled through nearby tables.
Richard’s jaw flexed.
“How dare—”
Hartford pointed toward Emma.
“Listen.”
The command silenced him.
Emma reached the final approach.
Every ounce of strength she had entered the keys.
Grief.
Hunger.
Anger.
Memory.
Love.
The final notes arrived.
Powerful.
Controlled.
Then the last chord.
Emma released.
Sound hung beneath the chandeliers.
Slowly fading.
Nobody moved.
Emma kept her hands above the keyboard for one second.
Then lowered them.
Silence.
Perfect silence.
Her breathing sounded too loud to her own ears.
She stared at the keys.
She was afraid to turn around.
Then a chair scraped.
Hartford stood fully.
He began clapping.
Slow.
Deliberate.
One clap.
Two.
Three.
Another person joined.
Then another.
Within seconds, the restaurant exploded.
Everyone stood.
Applause crashed through the room.
Emma turned.
She froze.
People were on their feet.
Waiters.
Guests.
Kitchen workers.
The host.
Even several people standing near the lobby.
A woman shouted:
“Bravo!”
Another:
“Again!”
Emma stared.