Chapter XIV.
When she woke the next morning, she was surprised that she had slept so well. She had thought for sure she would toss and turn all night. Once she heard her parents stirring below and knew they were up, she began practicing.
After about an hour, her mom knocked on her door. “Lyra, I’ve made you some breakfast. Will you come eat?”
“Yeah, thanks, mom.” Actually, Lyra felt a little queasy with nerves, but maybe putting something in her stomach would settle it.
Her dad was waiting for them at the table with waffles, hash browns, and bacon. It smelled wonderful and Lyra’s stomach growled in response. She ate a little bit of everything.
“Do you know who is on the panel you’ll be playing for?” her father asked her.
“No,” Lyra answered, finishing her orange juice.
“Do you know how many members of the Board you’ll be auditioning for?” he continued.
“No.”
“Lyra,” Olivia began, “I wondered if you would like me to go with you?”
Lyra chewed her lip. She wasn’t sure how to say this without hurting her mom’s feelings. “I would love for you to be there with me, mom, but how would that look? I mean, I’m auditioning for a professional orchestra—wouldn’t I appear more grown up if I went by myself?” Her eyes pleaded for her mother to understand.
“Well, honey, everyone there knows you’re only sixteen; Masters will have told them. If they thought you were too young, you wouldn’t even be auditioning for them. Whether or not you get it is going to depend on your performance, not your age.”
Lyra considered. “That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that…It would kind of be nice having you there.”
Olivia clasped her hands together. “I’d really like to come. And,” she continued excitedly, “I was thinking that when you are through, we could celebrate by going shopping for a new outfit to wear to the dance tonight.”
Lyra laughed. “How do you know we’ll have something to celebrate? I may be coming home to cry in my pillow all afternoon.”
Her parents were both shaking their heads. “I doubt it,” they said in unison, causing them all to laugh.
Lyra looked at her watch. It was nine o’clock. “Okay. I’m going to go finish getting ready. I want to get there early. Will you be ready by nine-thirty, mom?”
“I’ll be ready and waiting on you,” her mother promised.
Lyra dashed back upstairs. She put on a pair of black pants and a white button-down top trimmed in lace that made her feel classy. She brushed her hair and applied a little more make-up than she normally did. She added mascara, eye shadow, and blush to her standard lip gloss. Despite what her mother said, Lyra thought it had to help to look as grown up as she possibly could.
When she was finished, she lugged her cello downstairs. Gordon and Olivia were waiting for her in the living room. They both had their jackets folded over their arms and Lyra’s was lying across the sofa.
“Are you going too?” Lyra asked her dad, a bit ungraciously.
“No,” he replied with a chuckle. I’m going to the office. I have a client coming in today to read over a draft of his will. But I may meet you and your mom for lunch. Is that okay?”
Lyra felt ashamed of herself. “Of course, Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t want you there.”
“Even though you don’t,” he returned dryly.
“Well, I’d love the moral support, but this isn’t a concert, you know.”
“I know, honey.” He hugged her tightly. “You look beautiful and you’re going to do great.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
They left at the same time and got to Master’s house at 9:45. Lyra noticed there were no other cars in the driveway yet. Good. She’d hoped to be the first one there.
When they went inside, Barty was waiting for them. Lyra noticed he had rearranged the room. At the far end were one chair and a music stand. Closer to the door he had set out four chairs.
“Hello, Olivia,” he greeted happily.
“Is it okay that I came with Lyra?” her mom asked.
“Yes, yes. Perfectly fine. I’m delighted you came.”
He turned to Lyra and his smile softened. “How are you, Lyra?”
She nodded—something was stuck in her throat.
“Come here.” He took her cello from her, put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to one of the nearby chairs. “The others will be here any minute and we’ll get this over with. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”
She nodded again.
Barty and Olivia began talking quietly of other matters and Lyra tuned them out. Her heart was beating fast and she felt a little light-headed. Then she remembered Jonah’s instructions from last night. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking, I can do this, I can do this. After repeating the sequence a couple of times she felt better. She was going to have to remember that at exam time. It definitely helped.
She went over to “her” chair, unzipped her case and began warming up. Though she’d really done enough of that at home; it calmed her as well.
She heard a car drive up, stop, and two doors slam. Immediately, another vehicle pulled in and Lyra heard one door shut. Muted voices floated into the house. Olivia and Barty had stopped talking. Barty walked to the door and, looking out of the front glass, waited for the party to make it up the front steps before opening to the cold wind outside.
They entered in a flurry, everyone talking, shedding their coats, and greeting each other. Barty introduced them to Olivia first, as she was the closest. A statuesque woman with silver hair named Katherine Kendall shook her mother’s hand regally. Sylvia Miller, small, stooped, and Lyra guessed anywhere between 70 to 90 years old, was introduced next. She had a squeaky voice and sprightly manner and Lyra loved her on sight. The gentleman, Edward Doyle, was the youngest of the three. With a mass of unruly brown hair and animated expression, he exuded an energy that was contagious. He was the only one Lyra recognized; he played violin and was the orchestra’s concertmaster. Lyra repeated their names in her head memorizing them.
In unison, they turned to Lyra, who had risen from her chair and taken a couple of steps in their direction.
“Ahh, here she is,” Edward Doyle enthused. He was the first to step forward. He shook her hand. “Such a pleasure. I feel I know you already, Barty has told us so much about you.”
Lyra blushed. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”
Sylvia Miller was next; she grasped Lyra’s hand in both of hers and peered up at her through thick glasses. “Sylvia Miller. Lovely to meet you, dear.”
“Thank you. You too.”
And finally, Katherine Kendall, moved forward and greeted her austerely. Lyra knew immediately that this was the one person she should worry about.
“Good, good,” Barty proclaimed. “Now if everyone wants to take a seat, we’ll get this show on the road. Let me grab another chair. Olivia, you go ahead and take mine. There you go.”
Lyra took her seat again and waited for instructions. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. I can do this. I can do this.
Barty returned with another chair. “Whenever you are ready, Lyra, you may begin. Start with the exercises, then Vivaldi last,” he told her.
Lyra played through each of the etudes, while not perfectly, without any major mishaps. No one spoke as she pulled out the sheet music for Spring and arranged it on her stand. She stretched her neck, flexed her fingers, and began. This had a melody and it was easier to get caught up in the music. Lyra’s playing became more relaxed and natural. She even began to smile a little as she played through her favorite parts. She played it well, and as she drew her bow across the strings on the last note and raised her head, she saw friendly expressions on everyone’s faces except Katherine Kendall’s—hers was impassive.
Barty was beaming. He was t
he first to stand. “Very good, Lyra. That was excellent.”
Edward Doyle stood and nodded enthusiastically.
Olivia got up, walked over to Lyra, and hugged her. “You did great, honey. Just perfect.”
Lyra got to her feet shakily. She still had her eye on Katherine. The woman was completely emotionless.
“Olivia, Lyra,” Barty addressed them, “Why don’t you go on back to the kitchen? I’ve laid out some refreshments. Please help yourselves. We’ll join you back there after a quick meeting.”
Lyra packed away her cello and followed her mother to the back of the house. On Barty’s table they found sliced fruit and pastries, plates and napkins. Olivia poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. Lyra got a glass of water to wash the metallic taste from her mouth.
Olivia stood looking out the back window. Lyra paced the kitchen; she was glad her mother wasn’t one to chatter.
The clock above the sink indicated only five minutes had passed, though it had seemed much longer, when they heard footsteps coming down the hall. Lyra and Olivia turned. Barty appeared at the door.
“They are all very complimentary of your performance, Lyra,” he began. “You played beautifully, and I really don’t think there’s any question you’ve got the position, but…” he cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable. “A question has been raised as to whether you would do as well unrehearsed. Will you oblige us by playing one more piece?” His expression was apologetic.
Lyra would have bet her cello that Katherine Kendall had been the one to question her ability. But that was fine. Lyra was up to the challenge. “Of course,” she said, walking toward him. He led the way back to the front room.
The three board members had resumed their seats. Veronica Miller looked mildly confused, Edward Doyle perturbed, and Katherine Kendall wore a haughty but satisfied smirk.
“What would you like me to play?” Lyra asked Masters while she picked up her cello.
Masters turned and looked at Katherine who only raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“You choose something, Lyra. Anything you want.”
Lyra tried to think. Her mind didn’t seem to be working at normal speed. “What about that Mozart concerto?”
Barty’s brows knit together. “Yes, but it’s…” He turned and addressed the others. “Does anyone object to a duet? I think Lyra’s skill can be just as easily determined if I play with her, and the Mozart concerto has alternating parts and is best played together.”
After getting everyone’s ascent, he moved to take his own cello from its case and pulled his chair forward to sit beside Lyra.
“I didn’t bring my sheet music for that,” she whispered, though everyone could hear her.
“That’s okay. We can share my copy. I’ll turn the pages; you just keep playing.”
Lyra glanced over the pages fixing the melody in her head and praying her fingers would remember what to do.
Barty counted them off and they began. Lyra fumbled a couple of times but continued on, praying her slip ups were not too obvious. The further they got into the piece, the better Lyra performed. She concentrated on the music and, as usually was the case, absorbed the feelings and emotions the composer intended. Mozart’s style was impish and lively, and Lyra’s mood lifted accordingly.
They reached the romping conclusion, and Lyra looked over to a grinning Barty. Applause erupted from their audience. She caught her mother’s eye and Olivia gave her a discreet two-thumbs-up. Edward Doyle and Veronica Miller were both clapping and smiling happily. Katherine Kendall was looking at Barty and Lyra saw her nod imperceptibly.
“Congratulations, Lyra. You’re in,” Masters said beside her.
Barty confided to Olivia and Lyra after the others had left that Katherine had, as Lyra suspected, been the reluctant one.
“It wasn’t you though, Lyra,” Barty assured her. “She and Susan Bourke are close friends and she’s taken Susan’s illness badly. She’s been driving Susan to her chemo treatments and will be staying with her after her surgery next month. She just can’t stand the thought of Susan not returning to the Sinfonetta—or of anyone else filling her shoes. It’s nothing personal, I promise.”
Lyra’s ill feelings toward the woman dissolved. How could she blame Katherine for resenting her?
As Olivia and Lyra walked back to her mother’s Volvo, a few snow flakes drifted down around them. While they let the car warm up, Olivia called Gordon to tell him the good news. He suggested they meet for lunch to celebrate before the girls went shopping. On the way to the restaurant, Lyra called Jonah.
She dialed his number and heard it ring once before he picked it up.
“Congratulations,” he told her in his velvety smooth voice.
Lyra laughed. “Thank you.”
“How do you feel?”
“Fantastic. I’m so glad it’s over. I can’t wait ‘til our first practice—and our first concert! It’s going to be totally awesome.”
“Are you on your way home?” he asked.
“No. We’re meeting my dad for lunch and then my mom and I are going shopping.”
“Oh, your mom went with you after all?”
“Yeah, and I’m so glad she did.” Lyra glanced over at her mom gratefully.
“Good. Well, I’ll just see you tonight at your house. Eight o’clock, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. See you then. Bye.”
“Bye,” Lyra returned.