Luthier's Apprentice, The by Mayra Calvani Read Free Book Online Page B

had played a bit of piano when small and had a fine ear for music. She could detect quickly when Emma was off tune.
    Emma was in the middle of the first movement when they heard a noise coming from upstairs.
    They froze.
    “Oh-no. What was that?” Annika said, holding Blackie in her arms.
    Emma put the violin and bow on the bed. “Let’s take a look.”
    Annika placed Blackie back inside his cage.
    Outside, the hall was empty. From the workshop downstairs came the sound of sawing. They looked up to the attic door. It was a heavy oak door... and the stairs led straight up to it.
    Emma and Annika tiptoed up the stairs. Emma tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. They pressed their ears against the door.
    “It’s so quiet now,” Emma whispered. “Not even the sawing downstairs.”
    Annika crouched. “Is there a window inside this room? Look, there’s a draft coming from underneath the door.”
    Emma crouched and felt it, too. “You’re right. Where’s the air coming from? There’s no window in there. I’ve never been inside but you can see from outside the house that there’s no window.”
    A harsh voice came from the bottom of the stairs. “ Per l’amor di Dio ! What are you doing there?”

Chapter Eleven
    E MMA AND ANNIKA JUMPED TO THEIR feet. They had concentrated so hard on the attic door, they hadn’t heard Grandpa coming upstairs.
    “We…we heard a noise, Grandpa,” Emma said.
    “I’ve told you not to get close to that room. Why do you have so much trouble with such a simple request?”
    “I’m sorry—it’s just—”
    Grandpa glanced at his watch. “It’s almost three. I want you to continue work on that scroll. Come on, sbrigati .” His eyes moved to Annika. “I’m sure Annika will understand.”
    “Sure, Mr. Donatelli.”
    Emma sighed. “Okay,” she mumbled. “Let me at least walk her to the door.”
    Down at the front door, they said goodbye. “I’ll call you later,” said Emma.
    After Annika left, Emma trudged to the workshop and worked for the next couple of hours. She had already planed the fingerboard face of the scroll block, marked out the shape with a pencil and started sawing it out yesterday evening.
    Under Grandpa’s stern supervision, she finished sawing out as accurately as possible, then bevelled both sides to the pencil line and tidied the outline with chisel, gouge and files. It took a long time. The job demanded precision, stamina and concentration. Usually, she would get so much into it that the hours would fly like seconds. But today was different. Her mind kept straying to the attic, to the mark on Monsieur Dupriez’s floor... and to Corey. On one occasion she hurt her finger with the gouge, on another she dropped the file.
    “Where’s your head today?” Grandpa snapped from across the worktable.
    “Sorry.” She sighed.
    After another half hour Emma had the final outline for the scroll. She smoothed out the curves with her fingers. She smiled. It looked pretty neat.
    She looked at Grandpa only to realize that he had been watching her for some time. The expression on his face surprised her. The usual harshness in his eyes had totally vanished, and in its place lay only a profound sadness.
    But it didn’t last long. Grandpa blinked, as if waking up from a trance, and reached over for her scroll. He inspected it, his eyes narrowed and critical under his bushy brows.
    Emma held her breath. Say something nice, please.
    His expression was grim again. “You’re too good for your own good,” he muttered.
    What was that supposed to mean?
    At that moment the shop door bell chimed.
    “Get started on the pegbox,” Grandpa said. He gave her back the scroll and wiped his hands on his working apron. He headed to the shop through the connecting door and closed it behind him.
    Emma rose from the bench to stretch her back and legs. Her neck was sore. She opened and closed her hands, stretching her fingers. Even though she was used to it, she still got sore