Chapter 3: What Remains

The cloth caught on a rough place beside the tuning lever’s handle. Ada Mercer drew it back and found a pale thread stretched across the wood. In the afternoon light it looked almost silver. She unwound it with her thumbnail, taking care not to pull a loop from the cloth.

She had carried the bag from the front door to the kitchen table after lunch. The church hall appointment was still ahead of them, but there was no reason to wait until Tuesday to inspect what she would take. The catalogue and the unopened rags remained in the cupboard where she had put them the evening before. Without them, the smaller tools slid into the space beneath the handle.

On the counter sat the lunch she had meant to eat before beginning: bread beside a covered bowl. She moved the tools farther from its edge, though there was no danger of their touching it.

When she heard a key scrape next door, she went into the corridor. Eli Finch was holding his door open with a schoolbag against his knee.

“Have you a little time?” she asked. “I could show you how these go in. Before Tuesday.”

He glanced into his flat.

“Let me put this down.”

She returned to the kitchen and moved a chair out from the table. Then she moved it back a little, so he would not have to squeeze past it. When he appeared, she pointed to the place opposite her. His coat was already off. He had brought nothing with him to occupy his hands.

“It won’t take long,” she said.

She showed him the pocket for the mutes and the way the cloth went around the lever, with the loose end tucked beneath rather than tied. He watched her hands. She unwrapped it again and pushed it across to him.

“You try.”

He folded the cloth carefully, leaving the handle exposed.

“That part too. It knocks against things.”

He began again. She nearly reached over to turn the corner for him, then put her hand flat on the table.

The kitchen was warm from the radiator under the window. There was a small patch of dried mud on his sleeve near the elbow, and she wondered whether he knew it was there. He smoothed the cloth with the side of his thumb, making the same fold she had made.

“Like that?”

“Yes.”

He kept his hand on the wrapped lever.

“Can I ask you something about the other piano?”

She reached for a mute that was already beside its pocket. The rubber had picked up a crumb from the table. She brushed it away.

“Which part?”