When the Curtain Rises Read Free Page B

her great-aunt was gone again before pressing Abigail to continue. But the housekeeper had changed her mind. “I really shouldn’t be filling your head with ideas. Next thing you know you’ll be seeing ghosts everywhere.”
    â€œGhosts?”
    â€œNow look what I’ve started!”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNo,” said Abigail, shaking her head. “My lips are sealed.”
    Feeling a little unsettled, Chloe left the kitchen to have a shower and get dressed. She was on her way to the staircase at the center of the house when she passed the doorway to the sitting room. She peered inside. It was a cozy room, filled with polished wood furniture. A chintz-covered love seat and two upholstered armchairs faced a large stone fireplace, and there was an upright piano tucked in the far corner. Chloe hesitated for only a second before crossing the room.
    The lid of the piano folded back without any resistance. Chloe’s heart was pounding in her chest as she looked down at the keys. She wiped her damp palms on her shorts and lifted her hands into the air. “A few scales, that’s all. No one’s listening.” But half a minute passed and then half a minute more, and her fingers remained suspended just above the keys.
    â€œAny luck tracing the source of your mystery key?” Bess asked from the doorway.
    Chloe turned, startled. “No—not yet,” she stammered.
    â€œI didn’t mean to alarm you,” said her great-aunt. “I see you found our old piano. Your father said it would be like a magnet to you.”
    â€œHe told you about the recital, didn’t he?” Chloe said, fighting an unexpected wave of anger. “That’s why you invited me here.”
    Bess’s voice was gentle. “We wanted to see you, Chloe. We’re not getting any younger, Kitty and I. But it is true that your parents are very concerned about you. Your father didn’t tell us any of the details and we didn’t pry, but we gather you had a rough experience at a performance recently.”
    â€œI haven’t played in front of anyone for almost two months,” Chloe said, chewing her lower lip. “I want to, but I just can’t. Not even for my piano teacher. It’s stupid.”
    â€œNot so stupid. Don’t worry, it will happen when you’re ready. You won’t get any pressure from anyone in this house. As it happens, Kitty and I know a thing or two about stage fright.”
    â€œThanks,” said Chloe.
    â€œWell, I’ll leave you to it,” Bess said with a nod.
    When Bess was gone again, Chloe closed the piano lid and left the sitting room. She continued down the hallway to the huge oak staircase that rose up through the center of the house. On the landing between the first and second floors, she paused to study a painting that hung beside an ornate grandfather clock. “The carnival painting,” Chloe murmured, remembering her great-aunts’ story at breakfast. The painting showed a cluster of brightly colored tents arranged in a half-circle against a backdrop of snowcapped mountains. At the center of the tents there was a low stage with the name Carnival des Grands Lacs painted in elegant script at its base. There were several small figures in the picture: a tall man with a serpent around his neck, a dark man juggling half a dozen golden balls, and a tiny woman doing a handstand balanced on the raised arms of her equally short partner. Chloe looked for her great-grandfather and found him holding up a fiery ball in the shadows on the left-hand side of the stage. There was no sign of his wife or of any children.
    The longer Chloe studied the painting, the more details she noticed: the horses grazing off in the distance, the snakes curled up in cages in the shadow of one of the tents, the cases of bottles on display to the left of the stage. It was all oddly compelling. Chloe ran her fingertips over the painted scene. When