Page 100 of Strings
“You could say that.”
“Like, if I were to try to sell this, how much could I get for it?” I ask, pointing to the one in front of me.
“That is a 1719 Stradivarius. Go ahead and guess. Tell me what you think.”
I study it for a moment. I walk from left to right, leaning toward it, then back away to get a better view like I’m assessing it. “Well, in my expert opinion, judging by the color and age of the strings and shoulder rest, I’d have to say that I have absolutely no idea.”
Sebastian smiles. “That particular violin is worth sixteen million.”
I cough on air. Sebastian pats me on the back. “Are you okay?”
“Sixteen what?”
“You heard me. Crazy, right?”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“That’s one way to put it. Each piece has a legacy. The seventeen-nineteen is my favorite. The story goes something along these lines. Apparently, my great-grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather had an eye for antique instruments back in Russia.”
Sebastian walks over to a book on display and flips a few pages, stopping on a hand-drawn image of a man with a long mustache in a top hat. “They said he played beautifully.”
I lean over the book to look at the image, but refrain from touching it. For all I know, the sketch is worth as much as the violin. I snicker when I see the man’s face. “Clearly you’re related.”
“How can you tell?” he asks.
I point to the picture as I grab hold of Sebastian’s face. “He has an ass-chin just like you, Seb-ass-chin.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “You love my ass. Ass-chin, I mean.”
I turn back toward the case. There’s that damn L-word I’m avoiding.
“He was at an estate sale where this baby was up for a steal. No one realized its true worth until he had it appraised. It’s been passed down through the family for generations. Music is truly in our blood.”
The door creaks open and Constance steps inside. “I should have known you’d be in here.”
Sebastian gazes at me apologetically, obviously frustrated by the interruption.
“Please come back and join us for dinner. We’re waiting for you. Your father and I only want what’s best for you. You have to know that everything we do, we do for you and your future.”
“I know you mean well. I was just showing Talia our family collection.”
“Ah yes. Quite impressive, isn’t it, Talia?”
“Oh yes. They’re beautiful.”
“Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You grew up in Detroit, right? I think Bella mentioned that’s where she first met you.”
“Yes.”
“Were your parents involved in the arts?”
“No.”
She stares at me as if she’s waiting for me to give more. Usually, it doesn’t faze me, but there’s something about her that makes me feel like I need to say more. “My father ran a small business there.”
