iii. Andante – walking speed; a leisurely pace
Given Porcoline's cheerful mood and the four-course breakfast waiting for Max when he came downstairs the next morning, there was no indication that Margaret had informed her guardian of their unfortunate introduction.
Porcoline was as chatty as could be, even after the previous night having talked Max's ear off about current events in Selphia – the Bean Festival, for one, which sounded like a festival Max would never want to participate in. Being voluntarily pelted by beans was somewhere on the dignity scale alongside the time he'd had to lay on his stomach, stretch out over the edge of the dock to the point of almost falling in himself, and retrieve the stuffed Pomme Pomme that Sera had accidentally dropped into the water.
Today's topic was more about their family: Beatrix's recent success in striking treasure (well, a huge chunk of scrap ore that the town's blacksmith had paid her handsomely for; close enough) Cousin Sofia's invitation asking her family to not come to Sharance for her father's fiftieth birthday and to be sure to tell him all about it.
As they conversed, Max politely ate small helpings of what Porcoline laid out for him, even though he'd never been one to have much of an appetite this early in the morning. Porcoline finished off the rest with a lot of gusto and absolutely no shame. Except for a portion of omelet rice.
"Come, Maxie!" Porcoline scooped it out onto Max's plate. "I made it special for you, with only the finest Mamadoodle eggs! Eat up!"
Max didn't know a single person who didn't at least somewhat like omelet rice (Porcoline, obviously, more than somewhat), so he guessed that was why Porcoline had played it safe in cooking it up for breakfast. He was more than satisfied with what he'd already ate, but he couldn't just decline such a kind gesture on Porcoline's part.
So he ate it, neither tasting it nor particularly enjoying it, thanks to the thoughts that were crossing his mind.
How many times had he tried to convince Julia to have just one bite of the pie Cecilia baked? To allow Leann seconds on dessert – just this once? And every time she'd gotten so...irritated. Was there something he'd done wrong in his approach?
"So what's the agenda for today?" Porcoline asked, snagging Max away from his horrid, unanswerable questions.
"I don't know, I expect just shop for souvenirs for the family until Barrett arrives." Maybe he could also pick something up to extend as an olive branch towards Margaret. A good night's sleep had tapered his frustration a considerable amount, and he was willing to give it another shot. De Sainte-Coquilles did not admit defeat so easily, if at all.
"Mmm, I'd love to show you around but I need to prepare a birthday spread for Clorica. Her birthday's tomorrow but they're having the dinner tonight, and everyone in town will be here! You and Barrett should come too!"
He wasn't about to speak for Barrett, but since the two of them had already planned to have dinner tonight at the restaurant, it was a foregone conclusion that – "Of course. We'd be glad to attend."
"Wonderful!"
Max had grown so used to Cecilia clearing the table that he didn't think to help Porcoline at first, when his cousin bused the table clean of the dirty pans. But after Porcoline returned for Max's plate and silverware, Max shooed him off. "Oh, goodness, no. Let me, Porcoline."
He carried the plates towards the kitchen himself, and was halfway there when he spotted the piano up on the stage.
He'd seen it, of course – it was impossible to miss something so grand, but he hadn't thought much on it. Being this close to it now, however – it was magnetic, begging for him to play, if just once. His piano at home, he resisted its pull, had for some time by coming up with one excuse or another. Usually it was the excuse about how the arts were too frivolous for a de Sainte-Coquille to invest as much time into as Max would have liked.
But seeing Leann so interested in it now, pouring herself into practicing and asking Max to listen to the simple melodies she managed to teach herself instead of being as miserable and moody as she'd been initially when Julia had passed? "Frivolous" was hardly the term he'd use.
Approaching the piano, Max allowed his fingers to travel along the elegant frame and grace the fine ivory keys. He pressed on Middle C slowly, that it gave off no tone.
"You like it?" Porcoline asked, picking up the dishes off the counter where Max had set them down. "It's for Meggy. She's quite the talent, brings in all the customers!"
"I'm sure she is." She must be, if even Barrett was mesmerized enough by her playing that he thought to share it with Max. "You wouldn't mind ifI played, would you?"
"Oh, no, go right ahead! I didn't know you played, Maxie."
No, no one did, other than his immediate family and Cecilia. The piano that Leann was now so fond of spending hours with? Everyone assumed that it was there for show, a symbol of how much money the de Sainte-Coquilles had. Being able to afford something so magnificent and letting it sit around unused. How surprising it would have been to discover that Max had actually specifically asked Uncle Jasper for one.
It'd been a few years since he'd last played, but the melodies came back to him at once. Without having to think on it, he promptly began the Veethoben piece that was one of the first he'd learned, and one of the songs he'd heard Leann stiltedly attempting during the past few weeks.
His fingers sailed across the keys as if of their own accord, and the world around Max narrowed to just the tune, the sweet intertwining of the bass chords and the treble scales. With each note, the vibration of the piano's strings seemed to pulse up right through the keys, his fingertips and into his very soul.
The song ended abruptly, and when it did, Max stared at where the sheet music would have sat, had he used any. His heart was thudding fast, as if he'd just (hah, just the thought!) run clear across town. It took him a few seconds to realize what he was hearing was not his own heartbeat in his ears, but Porcoline applauding.
"Keep playing! That was splendiferous!"
No, he was only average at best, although certainly far more skilled than anyone else in his family, enough that Julia and Rosalind had always complimented him on his playing.
But there was something refreshing about Porcoline's response. His enthusiasm, maybe, seeing as how Max had forgotten that life had aspects worth being excited about. So he obliged, this time beginning a little Wershgin number, decidedly the most advanced arrangement he had memorized.
He closed his eyes, dissolving entirely into the song. Music had always been a sort of passion for him, but not one he'd been able to nurture to its fullest. Why? Because it wasn't anything worth pursuing – that is, what could be gained by him having such a hobby?
Music – the arts in general, really - was something many in his social circles viewed as an escape, entertainment. And it was, but to Max it was one of the few times he was permitted to convey his feelings to the fullest, was allowed to take off the mask that came with his family's reputation and name.
It was also one of the few things he associated with Julia's happiness, the way she looked at him so earnestly content when he would play for her. Pure happiness, not the artificial kind she'd worn for the sake of everyone else. The same sort Max wanted to see on Leann's face when he told her that he was able to acquire a teacher for her, and the same sort that had been missing for too long, for either of them.
His whole perception of what mattered had been significantly transformed, so perhaps Leann would end up being mocked by others the way Evelyn was with her clothing designs that were more oddities than they were wearable garments, or whispered about at parties like Electra, who opted to do her own maid's work more than half the time.
But Leann would also, Max hoped, be nonetheless confident and secure with herself, which she was far from now.
"Bravo!" Another round of applause from his cousin as the song wound to its finish. "He's good, isn't he, Meggy?"
Max blinked. He'd been so entranced in playing, he hadn't taken any notice that, at some point, his audience had expanded. Turning his head, he found Margaret staring at him so blankly that Barrett could have been considered expressive by comparison.
"Max, this is Margaret. Meggy, this is my cousin Herman's son, Max!"
Margaret's eyes were locked on Max. "We've met," she said before Max could greet her pretending they hadn't.
If Porcoline sensed any tension on Margaret's end, he didn't show it. "Oooh, that makes this even easier! Would you mind showing Maxie around town, show him where he can pick up some presents for his lovely family? I've got to get started on Clorica's dinner!"
"But...!" Finally taking her gaze off Max, Margaret gaped at Porcoline in disbelief. "You told me you needed help around here! You better not be trying to get me out of here in order to gobble down half of Clorica's dinner!"
"Bwah?! Never! And you would be a help, showing Maxie around town. Perhaps you two could talk about music and the like?~ I'm sure Max has plenty to share. Please, Meggy?" How Porcoline could have been so sure, Max had no clue, but he was under the impression that there were ulterior motives behind his request to Margaret.
"Porco! But..I...I've only been here a couple months, I couldn't tell him as much about Selphia as you -" Margaret started to protest, but Max stood from the piano bench, walking over to the two of them.
"Now now, don't argue. I think it's a fine idea. I'd be honored to have you as my tour guide, Miss 'Meggy'."
"Margaret," she corrected him sternly, with a look that told Max she didn't care much what he thought. Sighing heavily, she spared a glance at Porcoline. "Okay, Porco. For you, I'll do it."
Max was far more skilled in making small talk than he was at the piano, but even that proved difficult as Margaret and him made their way around the town of Selphia with Margaret giving predominantly one or two word responses to any questions Max had (which he was honestly thankful for, when they passed the bathhouse, as it wasn't an establishment he wanted to linger around for too long).
But when he asked Margaret what sort of seeds were currently stocked at the Flower Shop (perhaps something different than what was sold in Alvarna? he'd hoped to himself, wanting to make Julia's grave as magnificent as a de Sainte-Coquille deserved), and she responded with, "Oh, doesn't your maid buy them for you?" -
-he had to put an end to it.
"Margaret, please. I really am sorry that I offended you yesterday. I swear I didn't mean it as an insult, assuming you were a maid. In fact, I count my own maid as one of my closest friends."
"How was I supposed to think you meant it? With your -" she flipped her hair behind her shoulder, and then flashed an impressively arrogant grin, complete with arched eyebrow. "Look, before I lived with Porco, some of the humans who would visit the Elven Kingdom were so..."
"Rude, I suspect? Or bossy? Oh, I know, condescending? Patronizing, perhaps?"
Margaret blinked at him, and Max couldn't help but be pleased at causing her such incredulity.
"I've heard stories, Margaret. Plenty of them, from friends." He emphasized the word again. He hadn't heard so much from Cecilia in this case, but from Jake and Egan. "Again, I sincerely apologize if I hurt you yesterday. It's just all the elves I do know work in some sort of service trade. And all of them excel in it, which so I've heard you do with music." Ah, the swift one-two combination of apology and compliment.
"Oh, uh, thanks." Finally, her lips hinted at the smile that Max had seen upon the first instance they met, before it'd all gone downhill. And it was quite an attractive smile, he had to admit with more than a pinch of guilt.
Max really did wonder how anyone, human or otherwise, could stand to be so unthinkingly inconsiderate to Margaret, or any other elves – it hurt him to be lumped in with that group. Even Jake in all his bitterness didn't deserve some of the cruelty that Max had heard their kind had been shown.
"Were they really that awful to you, Margaret?"
"Not...I guess not awful, but after a while it just got...to be a real pain, you know? And it wasn't always intentional, like they just didn't know better, but they could be really demanding sometimes! Wanted me to play what they wanted instead of...whatever I felt inspired to play at the time. Because I was just an elf, there for their entertainment. Not...not everyone was like that though. Porco, for one..." She trailed off without elaborating, her gaze averted as if she feared she had already shared too much. "So when you just came up all, 'Do this, do that', I would have thought someone from Porco's family would be less...less -"
Max supplied what he was fairly certain was the end of that sentence. "Of a 'supreme jerk'?"
She gave a tiny laugh. "Yeah. At least you can admit it.~ That's the first step."
"Well, then the second step will be reiterating that I truly am sorry. Can we start over?" The spring breeze was whipping up, and forced Max to tuck his hair back in a similar fashion to how Margaret had criticized him for just a minute ago. "You are the reason I've come to Selphia after all."
"...What?! Er, I mean, whyme? I thought you were here to visit Porco."
Max gave a short laugh at Margaret's reaction. So charming, her humility - a trait he'd never practiced much, himself. "Not you specifically. I am here to see Porcoline, yes, but my friend Barrett said I should hear you play – or, he said I should hear the musician at the restaurant play. He hadn't given me a name or species to go with that title."
"Oh..." she said quietly.
"You sound as if that's strange, a person wanting to hear music from a maestro such as yourself."
"No, but no one actually visits the restaurant, let alone Selphia, for that. They usually come for Porcoline's food and I'm just there...for ambiance."
"As a happy diversion? Someone to set the mood around them, but not to inspire their mood, right?" Like all the other musicians at the numerous fêtes Max had attended throughout his life, who played for those who had only a superficial appreciation. He always made it a point to thank them for their contribution to the evening, and whether they accepted his words as genuine or not was up to them.
"Yeah...that! That's...that's a good way to describe it - or, how...it feels, sometimes." She stared at him for a few beats, a sort of curiosity taking over her expression. "How did you get so...in touch with music? You're pretty good, at least, from what I heard."
"Self-taught." Max felt an unfamiliar emotion creep up: embarrassment. Both he and Rosalind had always been capitivated with subjects that many considered more appropriate for the opposite gender; himself with music, and Rosalind with science and medicine. Thank goodness they'd had so many people in Alvarna on their sides, such as Father, Ray, Cecelia, and Kyle. When it came to those they associated with in the rest of Norad, there was far less support.
His embarrassment was for naught, as Margaret grinned broadly. "Really? That's...wow! I don't know many... people who are that dedicated to music."
Max knew what her little pause was for – that by people she meant humans, as elves usually had a natural proclivity in one sort of talent, be it creative or practical. But they'd moved past the whole elves versus humans topic, and he meant to keep it that way.
"Yes! I've always considered myself a connoisseur of the finest music, and I'm proud that my daughter has followed in my footsteps. Becoming quite the little Vach herself." Embellishment, sure, but a permissible, harmless one!
"You...have a daughter?"
"Yes, her name's Leann. She's ten, so Porcoline's never met her. She's..." Ah, how could he put it? "She's a great many things, and enjoys a great many things, too. Like fashion, music as I said. Boys, unfortunately. And she's so smart, top of her class. Spoiled too, which is my fault, and I'll be doing nothing to abate that by picking her up a few gifts while I'm here."
Margaret turned to glance at the general store that was behind her, off in the distance, which she'd failed to tell Max anything about other than that it was currently open. "You think you'll find something here to her liking? The general store's good for cooking ingredients and stuff like that but I don't know how much they have for presents, especially for...someone in your family."
"I think I will find something perfectly to her liking, Margaret. I really do." Max unveiled the disarming smile he'd been waiting to use, and was not the least bit surprised that he received one in return.