Return of a Broken Heart

Four - A La Carte

She had gotten ready. Her purse draped over her shoulder, jeans, a top with French writing on it (ooh la la!) a burgundy waistcoat and platformed heels. She didn't look too overdressed, but fancy enough for the class of the hotel that she was in. Angie took a deep breath.

Time to go to dinner.

Carefully, she walked down the steps. After being shown the way to the restaurant, she nodded her head in thanks and went to find her table.

Violetta's head popped up suddenly and Angie quickened her pace. She didn't care if there was a bounced in her step. She was with her niece and that was all she wanted. Too bad there was another woman in on their catch up.

Angie clicked her tongue as quietly as she could. She would have to organise some alone time with her. Surely German would be okay with that? He'd understand? Angie convinced herself. Of course he would!

Nervously she pulled back a chair. Embarrassed that he hadn't been the one to do it, German got up, flustered. She tried to tell him to sit back down but he wouldn't have it. He would tuck her chair in. He would be a gentleman! Inwardly, he smiled to himself.

Once Angie was sat down and tucked in at the table, Priscilla used her perfectly manicured hands to pick up her menu.
Ugh, thought Angie, she was one of those. One of those women who spent millions and millions on manicures and conditioning their hair and shoes... People like that made Angie feel sick. They were so vain. Usually. She didn't know Priscilla, so she couldn't judge her. However she knew enough women of her apparent type.

She scoffed inside. Priscilla could never be a genuine person. German would be fed up with her soon. She smiled to herself. It would be fun to see him lose his mind over her. Then she realised that she lived in Paris. Maybe she wouldn't be so happy. Her inward smile turned to a frown. Quicker than you could say cheese, which was now being served on a posh little platter.

She watched her, being careful not to be caught. Priscilla could pounce at any minute. She was a classic female dog. Her eyes expertly scanned the menu. She'd probably been here before. Although she could be catty, she was sophisticatedly dressed. That was one thing she had to hand to her. No wonder Ludmila was like she was. Meeting her mother and watching her now, it made sense. Her mother probably wasn't the loving type. She bought her amazing clothes and educated her on how to look for the best discounts, but never on how to trust people. Had Ludmila ever fallen in love? Had her mother?

That was one thing she couldn't say about Maria. She always included everybody. From a young age, Violetta was brought up in a loving, her educating family. Music was a massive part of her life. It was now Violetta's passion and her destiny, just like her mother. The only difference now was that there was no one to go against her. If they had supported Maria, perhaps her life wouldn't have ended the way it did. Of course, the accident was nobody's fault, but she had to go against her family to follow her dream. Thankfully, it wasn't like that anymore for Violetta. Everyone loved her, but more than that, the right people cared for her. Angie looked to her side. Violetta was so grown up. It had been a joy to watch her.

Violetta took her hand. "Look, a piano!" She pointed to the empty piano stool and the baby grand that sat at the other end of the room.

Priscilla didn't look impressed, "We're eating now, Violetta." Angie hated that. She had no right to treat her like she was her mother. That was - she stopped, stunned with what she was thinking. That was no one's job. Although he was dating, German had never remarried so technically Violetta didn't have a mother.

She turned to her father. She wanted to sing! His expression was stiff, but then he turned to his girlfriend, "Just one song?" Priscilla nodded, defeated. Violetta grabbed both Angie and German by the hands.

Once Angie and Violetta were stood at either side of the piano, German smiled. What would he play? He looked at Violetta, then at Angie. He glanced at the keys and flexed his hands ready to play the notes of Angie's song.