A Girl and Her Fiddle

The familiar smells of Piet’s leather workshop surrounded Deianira as soon as she opened the door. Piet greeted her with his customary grunt and reached behind him to the row of pegs. “Here’s your case, girl.” It was beautiful, too; dark blue leather, the extra-long strap she’d requested. “Don’t know why you need it – your old one’s still good.” Deianira just smiled and put her old case on the counter, opening it to gently remove the violin and bow inside. As expected, they fit perfectly in the new case; Piet was a true master. The lining of the new case – a lighter blue than the leather – was thicker, though, and she could feel the wool padding beneath the velvet. Piet sniffed. “Lot of wasted space. You don’t need all that wool.”

Deianira shook her head. “I do, and it’s perfect. As always.” She had no intention of telling Piet about her plans, but while her old case was fine for carting the violin from house to theatre and back, she’d need something sturdier to protect the instrument from the rigors of travel. She closed the new case and settled the long strap across her chest, finding the best balance against her right hip. Again, not something she’d need in town, but this would let her carry a pack as well. She handed over a not-inconsiderable portion of her savings, ignored Piet’s continued mutterings, and sailed out the door, one step closer to leaving.