Playing the Maestro

by Aubrie Dionne

  Mr. Wallsworth began the intro and Melody brought the flute to her lips.

  The music surged up inside her, transcending notes and rhythms as pure emotions. Her fingers were light, quick, and sure, and her tone resonated from deep inside her, filling the hall. The concerto sparkled and enchanted, mystified, and reigned triumphant, changing whims with each new phrase. Melody felt as though she’d finally connected to the Wolfgang, the man behind the piece, and communicated what he’d meant in a few strokes of ink and quill way back in 1778. Mozart had spoken to her through his music.

  When the song ended and Mr. Wallsworth pounded the concluding notes of the piano accompaniment, Melody swelled with accomplishment and pride.

  Maybe it was because she’d just had the night of her life, putting everything into perspective, or maybe it was her connection to Mr. Wallsworth and the fact they’d played together so many times at nursing homes, or maybe it was because she’d truly practiced her butt off. Whatever it was, Melody played better than she’d ever played before.

  The judges buried their faces in their notes. Only Ms. Maxhammer gave Melody a small nod. Blake dragged in the next contestant, a pianist with wild hair and jittery eyes. Melody’s time to impress the panel and keep her seat in the orchestra was over. She’d done all she could. Her destiny was out of her hands.

  “This is it.” Wolf looked down at his phone with wide eyes. Behind him, the brick oven of Angelo’s Pizzeria blazed fiery warmth as a chef shoveled another round pizza dough in. “They’ve chosen a winner.”

  The margherita flatbread in front of Melody suddenly looked like a plate full of cheesy grease. Her stomach churned. Why did I order garlic bread sticks as well?

  “Do I want to know?” She pushed the plate across the plastic red-and-white checkered tablecloth.

  “Come on, you know you nailed it.” Wolf teased her by nudging her shoulder. It had been two agonizing days since the audition. Melody had checked her e-mail so much she’d asked Wolf to go for pizza just to get out of her apartment and away from her ancient dust box of a computer.

  Finally, the moment came and she didn’t want to know. Melody sighed in resignation and sipped her soda. Better know now so she could start planning her life either way. “Go ahead. Open the e-mail.”

  Wolf clicked on the app on his phone.

  Melody stared. “So?”

  His lips curled into a tease. “It’s loading.”

  She tapped her plastic fork on the table. He still insisted they sit at the very back of the restaurant in case someone from the orchestra saw them. Melody played along even though their secrecy was hard to maintain. She had to trust he cared about her and would share it in time. “What a time to lose 4G! Can’t we just move to the front?”

  “No need. Here it is.”

  Wolf’s face grew serious, and Melody’s heart leapt to her throat. Good thing she hadn’t taken a bite of pizza, or she wouldn’t be able to swallow it.

  Wolf’s eyes twinkled and a grin spread over his strong boned face. “I’m looking at the winner of Easthampton’s Civic Symphony Concerto competition.”

  Melody slapped his arm. “You’re kidding.” Joy burst through her along with a great sense of gratitude for Wolf’s confidence in her abilities.

  He turned his phone around so she could see the message. Sure enough, Ms. Maxhammer had sent the announcement, headed by the official seal of the orchestra, the large-nosed profile of Mr. Wallsworth. Melody leaned back in her seat as warm tingles spread all over her. “I can’t believe it.”

  Wolf kissed her hand. “You earned it. You worked hard.”

  “What about Sandra?”

  “Guess she’ll have to find another competition to enter.” Wolf licked his lips and pulled the pepperoni half of the pizza over to him. “Now let’s celebrate.”

  A single doubt still nagged at Melody’s mind, but she pushed it away. She didn’t want to spoil the moment by pressing Wolf about when they were going to announce their own news.

  …

  Wolf sat in the front row of the Wallsworth auditorium, pouring over the score to Mozart’s Concerto in G Major as the members of the orchestra filed in and set up. A couple French horn players blatted out arpeggios backstage, and the older violinists practiced their notes with scratchy bows.

  “How’d they get the parts so quickly?” Melody plopped down beside him, placing her flute case across her lap.

  Wolf smiled. “Ms. Maxhammer had Blake scour New England for parts. A small orchestra way up in northern New Hampshire agreed to lend them. Blake had to drive four hours both ways to retrieve the music in time for tonight’s rehearsal.”

  “Wow, and he did all that for me.” Sarcasm dripped from Melody’s voice. As Blake passed them, she muttered, “Good thing I don’t need my part.”

  Blake stiffened, and Melody and Wolf laughed.

  Wolf whispered in Melody’s ear. “I caught him looking for your hidden part today before rehearsal.”

  “Do you think he knows we’re onto him?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t think he’ll be pulling any kind of musical Houdini again anytime soon.”

  The entrance of Ms. Maxhammer overshadowed Wolf’s joke. She walked gingerly with her cane around the right swell of the stage. At first, Wolf thought the president of the board had come to hear the orchestra play, but the solemn expression on the old woman’s face told him otherwise.

  Lightning zapped his heart. What now?

  He didn’t have time to guess. Ms. Maxhammer walked at a breakneck pace for a woman in her eighties. Wolf stood and met her halfway. “Ms. Maxhammer. What a pleasure to have you grace our rehearsal with your presence.”

  She gave Melody a dubious frown, than turned to Wolf. “Mr. Braun, I need to speak with you in private.”

  Melody took the cue, bowed her head before the old woman, and climbed the steps to the stage. Wolf led the president of the board to the seats in the back. “What can I do for you?”

  He gestured for her to take a seat, but she shook her head. “I won’t be here long.”

  A trumpet ran through a fanfare, and the old woman waited until the sound tapered off to speak.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ve just spoken with the chief of the Easthampton police, who has spoken with Der Polizeipräsident in Berlin.” She pronounced the words so clearly, he wondered if she did indeed speak German.

  Absently, she touched the chunky beads at her neck. “It seems Ms. Schuhmacher’s been writing bad checks. If we’d given back her money, she would have conned us out of more than five thousand dollars.”

  “Verdammt!” Wolf bunched his fists as anger ripped through him. Everyone Alda touched was cursed.

  Ms. Maxhammer tapped her cane against his leg. “You were right, Mr. Braun.”

  Wolf wondered if his scorning Alda had been part of her plan all along. Was he still a piece on her chessboard? It didn’t matter now, because the police were onto her game. She couldn’t run forever. “I’m just glad I caught her before she got away with it.”

  “Yes, I reviewed the documents you’d sent us, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Alda’s actions pushed me to come to the States, to take this job.” Wolf looked to the stage where Melody assembled her flute, standing in front of the orchestra to play her concerto instead of sitting in the back. “It was worth it.”

  Ms. Maxhammer’s eyes grew misty with melancholy. “You love her, don’t you?” She gazed into the distance, where Melody played a few notes.

  Wolf paused. He couldn’t continue to lie about Melody. He loved her and he owed her more than that, even if it meant losing his job. Because of Alda, he was sick of charades.

  “I do.” A blush rushed up his neck. “It was all my fault, not hers. If anyone needs to go, let it be me.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s going anywhere.” Ms. Maxhammer set her lips in a tight line and looked out into the empty audience. “You’ve done great things with this orchestra so far.”<
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  “Thank you.” Wolf breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered how an old woman could make him as nervous as a schoolboy. Had there ever been a Mr. Maxhammer in her life? He’d heard rumors of a millionaire love interest who died in Vietnam, leaving her all his wealth, but someday he’d have to get to know her better and ask the real story.

  “Go on, then.” She tapped his foot with her cane. Still looking ahead, a smile leaked from the corner of her mouth. “Make it count.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Judgment Day

  The sound of chatter, folding programs, and little kids kicking the backs of seats filled the Wallsworth Auditorium. Melody picked up the many skirts of her new black evening gown and tiptoed to the velvety curtains that lay across the stage. She pulled one back and peeked.

  Half the audience was full.

  She checked the clock backstage. Ten more minutes to the performance. Had the deal not gone through?

  “Seems Mr. Braun’s great debut is under-attended.” Blake’s voice made her jump, and she felt the diamond earrings Wolf had given her for her concerto performance bob in her ears.

  “We still have time,” she growled, wanting to hit him with her flute. Too bad she’d left it in her dressing room.

  He grinned. “Ten minutes and counting. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time. Mr. Braun failed, and the committee will meet tomorrow and write his resignation letter.”

  “And who’s going to conduct this orchestra if you get rid of him? You?”

  Blake shrugged. “I could certainly do a better job with concert attendance by bringing in some very big names.”

  Anger erupted inside her. She got up right in his face. “You can’t even keep track of the music parts.”

  Blake locked eyes with her, and in that instant, she knew he knew she knew. She challenged him with a flare of her eyes, ready to have it out with him right here, right now in her four-inch heels.

  The swell of voices rose behind the curtain, followed by clicks of a hundred cameras and a sea of laughter. Both Melody and Blake whirled around and moved the red velvet out of the way.

  Children poured from the doorway, like the opening of a candy shop. They ran down the aisles and jumped into empty seats, squealing with excitement. Women and men in scrubs came next, followed by a few doctors still wearing their white coats. A camera crew followed, with local reporters documenting the scene.

  “What is this? The ER or the circus?” Blake frowned as if he’d never been a kid himself.

  Melody breathed in triumph and her chest swelled against the rhinestone-crusted straps of her evening gown. Laini had come through.

  “They’re here courtesy of the Make-A-Dream Foundation.” Melody almost burst with pride.

  It began with a few eager voices, then caught like wildfire throughout the auditorium. The kids chanted, “Mo-zart. Mo-zart. MO-ZART. MO-ZART.”

  Happiness rose inside of Melody as she spotted Laini, along with Derek and Violet taking seats in the front row. “You see, they all wrote letters last week asking to see Mozart in concert.”

  Of course, Blake would think she meant Mozart’s music, when in fact, they meant Wolfgang Braun. She nudged Blake’s shoulder as no seats were left unfilled. “Looks like our new conductor is here to stay.”

  Melody brought out a sealed envelope. “Oh and by the way, Wolf and I reported your music hiding to the board, with evidence. They’d like to meet with you after the concert.”

  Blake’s face paled, and he blinked in disbelief. “I don’t have to take this, especially not from you. I’m sending my resignation anyway. Besides, this job doesn’t pay me nearly enough.”

  Smiling to herself, Melody wondered if that wasn’t so bad.

  A stagehand gestured for her to move so he could pull back the curtains, and Melody shuffled back to the dressing rooms. Making sure no one saw her, she knocked lightly on Wolf’s door and his voice echoed out. “Come in.”

  Melody slipped in and closed the door behind her. Wolf turned from his music scores and his face brightened. “You look gorgeous.”

  “You can stop flattering me.” Melody kissed his cheek. “I’m already yours.”

  He cast a nervous look at the door. “How’s it going out there?”

  Melody teased him by biting her lower lip just like he’d teased her about the results of the concerto competition. “They’re here.”

  He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Mel. You’ve made this concert succeed and saved my job.”

  She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s little payback for saving my life.”

  He waved her away like she’d overestimated him. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

  In the right place at the right time. That was the biggest understatement of the year. He dropped in on her orchestra just when she was losing hope of the entire male musician population. “I’ll say.” She nudged his arm. “You should go out there and peek. They’re shouting for you.”

  “For me or for Mozart?”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess the facade never bothered Bruce Wayne. If Batman can do it, then so can I.”

  Melody laughed. “You’d certainly give Batman a run for his money.”

  “If he played the harpsichord.”

  The thought of the Caped Crusader sitting at a filigreed harpsichord gave Melody the giggles. If she didn’t get out of there, she’d lose all her concentration. She moved to the door. “Good luck. I’ve got to go warm up.”

  “Mel?”

  She turned from the door. “Yeah?”

  “Do you think the real Mozart would mind? My stealing his identity and all for the kids?”

  Melody thought back to everything she’d learned about him in her history classes. “If anything, I think he’d cheer you on.”

  The concert began with the racing runs of Strauss’s Don Juan. The strings played like they were on fire, followed by a trumpet fanfare and a pattering of timpani. Melody pictured Don Juan leaping from rooftop to rooftop and landing in the bedroom of his most recent conquest. Her flute resonated under her fingers as she blazed through triumphant runs. Carly’s solo after letter L started on a low D and rose up like pure emotion into a gorgeous melody, like an older woman remembering her first love. Melody heard such exquisite subtlety in her friend’s tone, she wondered if there were stories Carly wasn’t telling her about.

  The symphonic poem ended in ominous French horn tones and a staggering heartbeat of strings, followed by a surge of applause.

  Wolf spoke to the audience in between pieces, making the children giggle and sing. His stories educated the audience about the music while entertaining them at the same time. He told all the young girls how they wouldn’t want to kiss Don Juan, because of all the ladies he’d kissed before. They giggled, and Melody wondered how she could have ever thought Wolf was like the seventeenth-century libertine. Before she knew it, he’d finished his story, and the audience clapped as the lights dimmed.

  Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, Melody walked on stage, taking her position in front of the orchestra. Wolf smiled and his eyebrows rose in question. She nodded, and he brought the orchestra to life with a downbeat.

  Melody gazed out into the audience and soaked in the moment as she waited for her opening entrance. She’d come so far from the girl who didn’t have the music just a few weeks ago, to the soloist in front of the stage. She’d found the extra confidence and drive to beat Sandra Templeton, fall in love with a musician—a conductor at that—and stand up to Blake, all in the course of a few weeks. She’d changed so much, and her music had grown as well. Now she was going to show the world.

  Taking in a deep breath, Melody put her flute to her lips.

  The sound resonated over the orchestra in vibrant tones. She played the large leaps in the exposition with grace, ending on a cadential trill. In her next entrance of the second theme, her tone turned mysterious and melancholy in stark contrast with the fanfare quality in the begi
nning. She opened her heart, pouring her emotion into her flute. She could feel the audience experiencing the music and breathing with her as she played.

  The orchestra tapered off and silence descended as she launched into a virtuosic cadenza, bringing all the themes of the exposition together in one final show of brilliance. When the piece ended, she put down her flute and gazed at Wolf. Thunderous applause rained around them. Wolf stepped off the podium and kissed the back of her hand.

  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the top of her earlobe. “Well done. Please stay here after your second bow. I have a special surprise for you.”

  She left the stage breathless. A special surprise? What did he mean?

  The applause kept thundering, and it took all of her courage to go back out there and face him again.

  Melody bowed again then and stood, awkwardly holding her flute as a board member presented her with a bouquet of roses. Was that the surprise? It wasn’t much considering the tradition was to give the soloist flowers at the end of her performance.

  Wolf took the microphone in his hands and turned toward her. When his eyes met hers, they locked together, and everyone else in the room disappeared.

  “When I first conducted this orchestra, you impressed me with your phenomenal sight-reading ability and your musicality. Then, when we first talked, you demonstrated your loyalty to this orchestra and everyone in it. When we attended the concert, you impressed me again with your bright ideas and dedication to making this orchestra succeed. And now, you’ve saved us all with our new alliance with the Make-A-Dream Foundation. You are an asset to this orchestra.”

  The crowd erupted in applause, and Melody remembered they were on stage in front of hundreds, if not a thousand onlookers.

  Wolf raised his hand to silence the applause. “You showed me how one person can make a difference in this world. You gave me a home here in the States and made me feel welcome and needed. You worked with me to build this orchestra into everything we wanted it to be. Lastly, you showed me I could trust you with everything, including my heart. I love you, Mel.”