Chapter 3 - Echoes in the Hallway
The sixty-minute mark came and went.
Upstairs in his study, Daniel Mercer sat at his desk, staring at a quarterly earnings report for Mercer North, but not a single number registered in his brain. His eyes kept darting toward the heavy mahogany double doors that led to the grand staircase.
No screams. No shattering glass. No frantic calls from Mrs. Nolan begging for assistance.
Just faint, intermittent sounds drifting up from the music room—the delicate plink-plink of the kalimba, followed occasionally by the low, soothing murmur of a voice he couldn't quite decipher.
Daniel stood up, walked to the door, and opened it just an inch.
Downstairs, the sunlight had finally broken through the Connecticut clouds, casting long, pale beams across the marble foyer. Through the open doors of the music room, he could see Mara sitting cross-legged on the floor. Lily was no longer under the piano. She was sitting directly across from Mara, her small hands holding the kalimba while Mara guided her thumbs across the metal tines.
They weren’t talking about feelings. They weren’t talking about heaven, or angels, or moving on—the patronizing phrases the previous grief counselors had endlessly repeated like broken records.
They were talking about ducks.
“...and then the duck stole my sandwich right out of my hand,” Mara was saying with a straight face. “And I looked at him and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, that’s my turkey club.’”
Lily let out a tiny, breathless puff of air that might have been a laugh if she had remembered how to do it properly.
“Ducks don’t eat turkey clubs,” Lily muttered, her voice small.
“This one did. He looked like an executive,” Mara deadpanned. “Very aggressive. Kind of like your dad when he looks at a spreadsheet.”
Upstairs, Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. Did she just compare me to a sandwich-stealing duck?
Before he could process the insult, Mrs. Nolan appeared beside him on the landing, carrying a silver tray with a cup of black coffee.
“She hasn’t cried once in an hour and a half, Mr. Mercer,” Mrs. Nolan whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Dr. Henderson was here for twenty minutes before he gave up and wrote a prescription for sedatives. This girl... she’s different.”
“She’s unorthodox,” Daniel corrected, closing his study door slightly so his voice wouldn't carry. “Keep an eye on her. I want to know every word they exchange.”
“Sir, she’s a music therapist, not a spy,” Mrs. Nolan said gently, though there was a hint of steel in her voice. “Maybe you should go down there yourself. It’s been four months since you played that piano.”
Daniel’s expression turned to stone. “That piano is Ellie’s.”
“It’s Lily’s mother’s,” Mrs. Nolan corrected softly. “And right now, Lily thinks her mother is never coming back because nobody in this house is brave enough to say her name.”
She walked away, leaving Daniel standing alone in the hallway. Her words stung because they were true. He hadn’t spoken Ellie’s name aloud since the funeral. He had buried his grief beneath balance sheets, shipping contracts, and twelve-hour workdays, convincing himself that providing financial security was the same as being a father.
Downstairs, the kalimba music stopped.
Mara packed the small wooden instrument back into her canvas bag, stood up, and brushed off her jeans.
“That’s enough for today, Lily-bean,” Mara said, using a nickname that made Daniel stiffen.
“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Lily asked, clutching the hem of Mara’s jacket.
“That depends on your dad,” Mara said, looking straight up toward the landing. She didn't call out, but her eyes locked onto the shadows where Daniel was standing. She knew he was there. “He’s the one holding the purse strings. If he thinks I’m a waste of time, I’ll be hanging out with the ducks at the park instead.”
Daniel stepped out from the shadows, walking slowly down the grand staircase. His footsteps echoed heavily on the marble.
Lily immediately retreated a step, her body tensing as her father approached. That reaction hurt more than any corporate defeat Daniel had ever suffered. His own daughter flinched when he walked into the room.
Mara noticed the micro-expression of pain that flashed across Daniel’s face. She gently placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder, anchoring her.
“Mr. Mercer,” Mara said smoothly. “Session’s over. She didn't bite me, and I didn't break her. Do I get to come back tomorrow?”
Daniel stopped two steps above them, looking down at Mara, then at his daughter.
May you like
“Ten o’clock,” Daniel said, his voice flat. “Mrs. Nolan will have your check ready when you leave today.”
“I don’t work on commission, Mr. Mercer,” Mara said with a cool smile. “See you tomorrow.”
