The closer Gretel got to the piano--and, of course, it would be a piano--the more her opinion of the musician improved. Definitely not a professional, no, but lovely. Truly, genuinely, heartbreakingly lovely.
She was inordinately pleased to see the pianist was a woman. A girl, even: delicate shoulders and fair, fair hair. Something inside Gretel's chest squeezed gently. She'd known another musician with hair like that, pale as Spanish lace. But that was a very, very long time ago.
Funny, that that memory should linger in her current...condition.
Out loud, she said, "Nobody knows who he wrote it for." There was a mild smile in Gretel's voice for all that the actual expression was still behind the pianist. "It wasn't published till after his death and he never properly titled anything, anyway. Some academic claimed there was a dedicated on the original autograph. Newest theory is that it's for an opera singer, Elisabeth Röckel." Now close enough, Gretel ran her palm over the piano wood, fingers tapping silently. "Personally my money's on love. He had a student, very young and not particularly talented but quite pretty. his physician's niece, I think. He penned the bagatelle as his proposal. Instead, the night of the offer he got too drunk to talk, let alone play. All he could do was write her name on the title page. When it was found, on her death, it was published but the penmanship was nearly illegible." She paused her hand and looked up. "Thus 'for Elise' instead of 'for--
--and saw the girl's face--
--"Theresa." The name tumbled out gracelessly and for the life of her (well, one of them anyway) Gretel couldn't swallow her shock completely. Because sitting in front of her was a face she hadn't seen in over a hundred years. Cheek, eyes, nose, chin, mouth, every bit and curve was, was...
"Sorry, I meant Therese." The shock was gone entirely. "Penny" tilted her head curiously at the girl, friendly and bright. "Therese Malfatti. Seriously, I'm sorry for, God, I'm totally interrupting, right? It's a thing, like there's a wire loose somewhere between my brain and my mouth; everything just cannonballs out. It's terrible. So, really, I'm totally sorry."