Chapter 5: The Notebook She Couldn't Burn
Nobody spoke after Daniel mentioned the blue notebook.
The applause had stopped.
The photographers had lowered their cameras.
Even the waiters had abandoned their trays.
Every person in the concert hall was waiting for Vanessa's answer.
She gave them a laugh.
A thin, unpleasant sound.
"You're both delusional.""
Daniel picked up the letters from the piano.
"Where is it?""
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
"The blue notebook, Vanessa.""
"I said I don't know!""
Eleanor approached her.
"Don't insult us. I remember that notebook.""
Vanessa turned sharply.
"You remember nothing.""
"I remember Amelia carrying it everywhere. She used to write her compositions in it.""
Eleanor looked at Daniel.
"She showed it to me once.""
Daniel nodded.
"It contained the original melody, the first drafts, and the correspondence from the conservatory.""
I looked between them.
"Why is it important?""
Daniel knelt slightly so we were at eye level.
"Because it could prove your mother created the composition before Vanessa submitted it.""
"Then where is it?""
He looked toward Vanessa.
"That's what we've been trying to find out.""
Vanessa adjusted her fur stole.
"Perhaps you should ask the dead woman.""
Eleanor flinched.
"Vanessa!""
"What? She's dead. The notebook is gone. And frankly, I'm tired of listening to stories about a woman who couldn't accept that she lost.""
Daniel stood.
"Amelia didn't lose.""
Vanessa smiled.
"Then where's her prize?""
The words hung in the air.
I looked at the grand piano.
Then at my broken violin case.
My mother's music had survived in my memory.
But the notebook?
I had never seen it.
"Did Mom leave anything else?"" I asked.
Daniel shook his head.
"Not that I know of.""
Eleanor suddenly looked thoughtful.
"Wait.""
She turned toward me.
"Did your mother ever mention an old music box?""
I nodded.
"She had one in our apartment.""
"What did it look like?""
"Blue. It had a little silver butterfly on top.""
Eleanor covered her mouth.
Daniel went completely still.
"Amelia's music box," he whispered.
"You know it?""
He nodded.
"She used to keep her most important things inside it.""
Vanessa's expression changed.
It was quick, but I saw it.
A flicker of recognition.
Daniel saw it too.
"Where is it?""
Vanessa lifted her chin.
"I have no idea.""
But her right hand had begun trembling.
The event director approached the stage.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I think we should move this discussion to a private room.""
Vanessa immediately agreed.
"Excellent idea.""
Daniel shook his head.
"No. Not until the footage is secured.""
The director looked uncomfortable.
"Mr. Carter, this is a fundraising event. We have guests and sponsors—"
"Then let them hear the truth.""
Vanessa stepped toward him.
"You have no authority here.""
Eleanor turned to the director.
"Actually, I do.""
She removed a small gold card from her handbag.
"I am still the foundation's principal trustee.""
The director straightened.
"Of course, Mrs. Whitmore.""
"Then I am formally requesting that the security footage be preserved, that the original competition records be retrieved, and that no one destroy or remove any document connected to Amelia Carter.""
Vanessa stared at her.
"You can't do that.""
"I can.""
"You'll destroy the foundation.""
Eleanor looked at her.
"If the foundation was built on stolen work, perhaps it deserves to be rebuilt.""
The words made several guests exchange glances.
A journalist near the back began recording.
Vanessa noticed.
"Put that phone away!""
The journalist didn't move.
Daniel approached me.
"Would you like to sit down?""
I shook my head.
"I want to know about the notebook.""
He nodded.
"Then we'll find it.""
Two hours later, the gala had effectively ended.
The guests were being escorted out, although many lingered near the entrance, whispering about the confrontation.
The foundation's legal adviser had arrived.
So had two representatives from the conservatory.
Vanessa sat in a private conference room with her arms crossed.
Eleanor sat opposite her.
Daniel stood beside the window.
I sat at the end of the table, holding my mother's letter.
Nobody had asked me to leave.
Perhaps they realized that I deserved to hear the truth.
A woman named Patricia, the foundation's legal adviser, placed a folder on the table.
"We've reviewed the preliminary security footage.""
Vanessa looked up.
"And?""
Patricia opened the folder.
"The entrance camera clearly shows Mrs. Whitmore stepping on the violin.""
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"It was an accident.""
Patricia placed a photograph on the table.
The image showed Vanessa lifting her heel and bringing it down a second time.
"Twice?"" Patricia asked.
Vanessa looked away.
"She dropped it in my path.""
"That doesn't explain the second action.""
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Good Lord.""
Patricia continued.
"We also found footage from the backstage corridor. It shows Mrs. Whitmore ordering staff to move the instrument case and refusing to allow Maya to retrieve it.""
Vanessa leaned forward.
"Are we seriously discussing a broken violin when there are much bigger issues?""
"Yes," Patricia replied.
"Because it demonstrates a pattern of conduct that may be relevant.""
Vanessa laughed.
"You're all making me the villain because a little girl played the piano well.""
Daniel stepped away from the window.
"No, Vanessa. We're discussing the things you've done.""
Patricia opened another folder.
"There's something else.""
She placed a printed email on the table.
It was dated nineteen years earlier.
The sender was Vanessa Whitmore.
The recipient was a conservatory administrator.
The subject line read:
*RE: AMELIA CARTER — COMPOSITION DISPUTE*
I leaned forward.
Patricia read aloud.
"'Amelia's claims are unfounded. The submitted work is my original composition. Any similarities are coincidental. I would appreciate it if the committee would prevent further contact from her.''"
Daniel's hands tightened.
"She knew.""
Patricia nodded.
"We're retrieving the archived records.""
Vanessa stood abruptly.
"That's enough.""
Eleanor looked up.
"Sit down.""
"No.""
"Vanessa, sit down.""
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
"I'm leaving.""
Two security officers moved toward the door.
Patricia raised a hand.
"Nobody is detaining you. But we strongly advise that you remain available for questioning.""
Vanessa looked at me.
Her expression was cold.
"You think this changes anything?""
I didn't answer.
She pointed toward the letter.
"Your mother spent her entire life believing she was going to become famous. She wasn't. She had one song, one opportunity, and she failed.""
Daniel stepped forward.
"Get away from my daughter.""
Vanessa smiled.
"Your daughter? You didn't even know she existed.""
Daniel's face tightened.
"I know that now.""
Vanessa turned to leave.
But Eleanor spoke before she reached the door.
"Vanessa.""
She stopped.
Eleanor's voice was unusually quiet.
"Tell me where the music box is.""
Vanessa's shoulders stiffened.
"I don't have it.""
"Then why did you react when Maya mentioned it?""
"I didn't.""
Eleanor stood.
"I gave Amelia that music box.""
Vanessa slowly turned around.
Eleanor continued.
"It was a gift after she won the composition competition. I remember the silver butterfly. I remember the tiny inscription inside the lid.""
Daniel looked at her.
"What inscription?""
Eleanor swallowed.
"For the music that belongs to you."
She turned toward Vanessa.
"You remember it too, don't you?""
Vanessa said nothing.
Eleanor's voice cracked.
"Where is it?""
Vanessa stared at the floor.
Then she whispered:
"I threw it away.""
My heart sank.
Daniel shook his head.
"Why?""
"Because I didn't want her keeping reminders of the competition.""
"That was twenty years ago!""
Vanessa raised her voice.
"Because she kept writing to me! She kept asking for her music back!""
Eleanor's expression hardened.
"So you destroyed the evidence?""
Vanessa slammed her handbag onto the table.
"I destroyed a stupid music box!""
Patricia immediately wrote something down.
Daniel stared at Vanessa.
"Did you open it?""
Vanessa's face changed.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
"What's inside it?"" Daniel asked.
"Nothing.""
"Vanessa.""
"Nothing!""
Eleanor sat down slowly.
Then she whispered:
"You never destroyed it, did you?""
Vanessa's eyes filled with anger.
"Leave me alone.""
She stormed out.
The security officers followed her.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then I turned toward Eleanor.
"Why would she lie about a music box?""
Eleanor looked at Daniel.
Daniel's expression had become grave.
"Because she knows something is still inside.""
We returned to the main ballroom.
The staff had begun clearing the tables.
The lights were dimmer now.
My blue gown no longer sparkled as brightly beneath the softened chandeliers.
Daniel walked beside me.
"Your mother used to say something about hiding important things where nobody thought to look.""
I looked up.
"What?""
He smiled sadly.
"She believed that people only searched for what they expected to find.""
Eleanor joined us.
"Amelia was clever. Very clever.""
She looked toward the stage.
"She once told me that the best hiding place was somewhere people were too embarrassed to touch.""
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
Daniel stopped.
He looked at the grand piano.
Then at the black lid.
Then at the small music stand.
His face changed.
"Wait.""
He approached the instrument.
"What?"" I asked.
He gently lifted the music stand.
There was nothing beneath it.
Then he looked at the piano's side panel.
He ran his fingers along the polished wood.
A small rectangular section shifted.
A hidden compartment.
I stepped closer.
"What's that?""
Daniel carefully opened it.
Inside was a folded piece of blue fabric.
And beneath it was a tiny silver butterfly.
Eleanor gasped.
"Amelia.""
Daniel lifted the object.
It was a small key.
Attached to it was a note.
My name was written across the front.
MAYA.
I took it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My mother's.
I opened the note.
If you found this, then the music has finally been heard.
My eyes filled.
There was another sentence.
The blue notebook is not where Vanessa thinks it is.
Daniel looked at me.
"Where is it?""
I turned the paper over.
At the bottom, my mother had written an address.
An address I recognized.
It was the old community center where she had taught me piano.
But beneath it were four additional words.
Ask Mr. Bennett about Room 17.
I looked at Daniel.
"Who is Mr. Bennett?""
He stared at the note.
Then Eleanor whispered:
"The former director of Hartwell Conservatory.""
Daniel slowly nodded.
"He disappeared from public life twenty years ago.""
I looked at the little silver key in my hand.
"Why would he have Mom's notebook?""
Daniel's expression darkened.
"Because he was the last person who signed the original composition records.""
And suddenly, we understood.
The evidence hadn't been destroyed.
Someone had hidden it.
May you like
Someone who had been protecting the truth for twenty years.
And if Mr. Bennett was still alive, he might be the only person who could prove what Vanessa had done.
