Revel (Second Chance Romance #1)(57)

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My father wasn’t kidding. Salzburg was the most beautiful city I had ever seen. We took a train there from Vienna, and the Alps had whirled by my window, making my jaw drop at their beauty. I still couldn’t believe I was in a land that looked like the setting of every fairy tale I’d ever read as a kid. And I was with my father. It was like one of my best dreams, the kind I never wanted to wake up from.

Our first day was spent walking around the city. It had been the setting for The Sound of Music, my favorite movie as a kid, so I pretended to be one of the Von Trapp kids, marching around town, singing out of tune as my father laughed at my silliness.

There were castles! Stunning cathedrals. And the backdrop of breath-taking mountains. I never wanted to leave. Ever.

On our last day in town before taking the plane back to the US and the dreariness that was Choate, my father had the meeting he’d been talking about.

“It won’t be long,” he said. “And it ties into the little tour I want to take you on.”

“Where to now?” I asked, yawning. I was tired. I also still felt like I hadn’t broken through the fortress that was my father; I hadn’t learned enough about him. He kept us busy, and part of me felt that was purposeful. It didn’t leave me much time to ask questions.

Dad smiled, “Mozart. You’ve heard of him?”

I laughed, “Uh, yeah, Dad. I’ve definitely heard of him.”

He winked, “Just making sure your tuition isn’t a complete waste of money. Well, we’re going to visit his birthplace. He was born here in Salzburg. He’s buried in Vienna, but he spent much of his life here. All the beauty you’ve been surrounded by the last couple days is what inspired him to make the genius that is his music.”

I sighed. Not that I didn’t appreciate the brilliance and virtuosity of Mozart, but it felt like I was on a school field trip. I didn’t want to learn more about Mozart. I wanted to learn more about my dad.

But my father wasn’t someone I felt comfortable whining to. That sort of behavior was beneath him, something I was sure he’d look down upon. And I didn’t want to disappoint him. I suppose I can look back now and realize I was just afraid to displease him; afraid he’d stop visiting me if I wasn’t pleasant to be around at all times.

So to Mozart’s home we went.

“Who are you meeting today?” I asked as we drove across town in a limo provided by the hotel. “Someone from work?”

“Yes,” my father said. “He’s new to the firm. He’s in Salzburg visiting a client, but he’ll be on a new assignment soon and I need to touch base with him.”

“What kind of an assignment would an attorney have?” I said. “Don’t you guys just write briefs all day and bark into your cell phone?” I grinned at him.

He laughed, “Well, we do those things, too. But my firm is global, so we have clients all over the world. So sometimes we have to visit them. And as the founder of the firm, I like to get to know our new attorneys.”

“I see,” I said, already bored. “Sounds great.”

Dad looked at me, sensing I was agitated, “It won’t be long, sweetheart. I promise.”

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Mozart’s home was also a museum, so while my father stood outside to talk to his new guy, I wandered around the halls of what had once been Mozart’s home, thinking about how cool it was to literally be walking in the footsteps of one of the greatest musicians and famous people in the history of the world.

At one point I glanced out the window to see the man my father was speaking to. I had to admit, the new guy was pretty hot. My friend Landen would have called him “GQ as f*ck!” He was tall, dark hair, a rugged face. He was in a black pea coat, dark slacks, his hair slicked back. He was debonair and didn’t look like an attorney. I’d pictured a doughy man with glasses and a brief case when I thought attorney. This man could have been a model. He was also incredibly intense. He was listening to my father speak, his gaze laser focused on whatever he was saying. I would have guessed he was probably about thirty. Maybe younger, maybe older. It was hard for me to guess men’s ages. Besides, I only paid attention to guys my own age.

But this one was hard not to look at. Or imagine certain scenarios with…

I turned away from the window and wandered around some more. I had stopped to look at Mozart’s childhood violin when my father joined me, finally. They’d been speaking for over half an hour.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my head. “Took a little longer than I thought it would.”

“Is all okay?” I asked.

“Oh yes. All is well,” he said, smiling. But there was something in his eyes that told me different.

“Handsome guy, your new guy,” I said as we walked toward the next exhibit. “Sorry, I had to take a peek.”

My father laughed, “Oh Lord, Camilla. You sounded so grown up just now. Don’t grow up on me too fast.”

We walked around some more but I was growing bored, and my father seemed distracted by something.

“So why bring me here?” I finally asked him. “I know there’s a lesson in everything we do.”

Dad nodded, “Yes. Very true. Well, I’m a big fan of Wolfgang. You know, he was born to a musician. His father, Leopold. From the time Mozart existed, his destiny was laid out before him. Yes, he was a genius, but to be immersed in something is to make it anything but a choice. Mozart was composing at 4 years old. He went on tours by 6 years old. His genius is undeniable, but it’s always made me sad in a way, how he was never given a chance to pursue anything else.” My father’s face grew sad for a moment.