Alexia saw Ken Pinchot, her former mentor and one of the senior partners at Leggitt & Freeman. Their interaction had recently turned adversarial when the older trial lawyer helped Ezra Richardson prevent Rena from terminating Baxter’s life support. Alexia inwardly kicked herself for not anticipating that one of her former bosses would attend. The links between the Richardson family and Leggitt & Freeman ran deep and wide.
Pinchot, immaculately dressed in a professionally tailored tuxedo, had clear, perceptive blue eyes that quickly evaluated Alexia and her escort. He extended his hand with a wry smile.
“Good evening, Alexia,” he said. “I checked my weapons at the door. How about you?”
Alexia nodded. “Yes, Ken. It’s good to see you.”
She introduced Ted and greeted Nanette Pinchot, Ken’s third wife, a blonde in her early forties who endeavored to be as perfect as her husband. Nanette wore a classic black dress and a stunning pearl necklace. Gwen Jones knew Ken’s second wife and told Alexia that if Nanette didn’t measure up, Pinchot would trade her in for a newer model without a backward glance.
They sat down. The noise level in the room increased as the crowd gathered. There were four empty places at the table.
“Who else is joining our table?” Alexia asked Pinchot.
Pinchot shrugged. “Maybe Jeffrey and three girlfriends. I didn’t talk to him about the guest list.”
Alexia realized her own inclusion in the group had probably been a surprise to Pinchot. She took a sip of water and didn’t volunteer an explanation. With Ken present, Jeffrey and Alexia would not have the opportunity to strategize against Ezra.
Jeffrey arrived with his guests. Instead of three women, Jeffrey was accompanied by two men that Alexia recognized as officers of the largest bank in Santee, and a third man she didn’t know. Jeffrey introduced the bankers and the stranger, a stocky man in his forties with dark eyes and a swarthy complexion.
“This is Nicholas Valese,” Jeffrey said. “He’s visiting from New York.”
When Valese learned Alexia was a lawyer, he smiled and spoke with a clipped accent that sounded harsh when contrasted with the others’ Southern lilts. “A female attorney handles a lot of my business. She’s better than any man in a fight.”
Pinchot responded, “That’s what we used to say about Alexia when she was with our firm. There are scores of men walking around Santee with a lot less money in their pockets because she gave it to their ex-wives.”
“Oh, a divorce lawyer,” Valese said with a wink. “That’s how my lawyer got her start. She’s told me about what she’s done to guys who try to hide stuff from their wives—”
Before Valese could bore Alexia with secondhand war stories, a waiter arrived and announced the banquet entrees. Alexia selected the salmon and Ted chose a glazed pork chop.
Valese wanted to order à la carte.
“Bring me a steak,” he insisted, his voice rising. “Don’t talk to me about a cardboard salmon or rubber chicken!”
The waiter stuttered a reply, and Valese’s face grew red. He swore in a coarse whisper that could be heard around the table. Jeffrey intervened.
“Just a minute, Nicholas. I’ll talk to the man in charge of the food.”
Jeffrey left the table. Alexia leaned over and whispered in Ted’s ear. “I’m sorry about our dinner companions. I imagined we’d be left to ourselves.”
Ted kept his voice low. “Do you see the bulge under our angry companion’s jacket?”
Alexia quickly glanced at Valese. His large coat looked smooth to her.
“No,” she replied. “Do you think he’d bring a gun in here?”
“Not really, but he seems to fit the part.”
Alexia kicked Ted under the table.
Small talk swirled around the table while they waited for the first course. Jeffrey was sitting across from Alexia. He didn’t engage her directly in conversation, but several times she caught him watching her. When their eyes met, he smiled. Based on Rena’s comments and Rachel Downey’s negative opinion, Alexia had expected Jeffrey to be more sinister. In reality, he was very pleasant. Alexia could see why he had no trouble attracting female companions. Wealth and good looks create a potent attraction to women who fail to look beneath the surface.
Alexia glanced sideways at Ted, who was listening politely to the two bankers. She picked up snippets of conversation about new types of financing available to churches and hoped the entertainment would be more invigorating than present company.
12
Play it again, Sam.
ADAPTED FROM CASABLANCA
Unlike most mass-produced banquet fare, the food was delicious. Cooked perfectly, the salmon arrived attractively garnished with a crisp array of vegetables. Valese received a thick steak that seemed to mollify him. Toward the end of the meal, waiters appeared pushing carts of desserts. Alexia, debating between a strawberry cheesecake and blueberry torte, saw a small, balding man hurry over to Jeffrey and tap him on the shoulder.
“Mr. Chandler,” Jeffrey said when he glanced behind him. “Let me introduce you.”
Chandler was the executive director of the organization receiving the proceeds from the event. Alexia could see beads of perspiration on the top of his head, and he was obviously distracted as he shook hands with the men at the table. He turned back to Jeffrey and spoke in a frantic voice that Alexia could hear across the table.
“Mr. Richardson, as one of the primary sponsors of the evening you should be alerted to a problem. Mr. Plavich has been having severe abdominal pains. He tried to rest, but the pain became so severe that a short time ago his wife took him to the emergency room. They say he has acute appendicitis. He’s obviously not going to be able to perform tonight.”
“That’s good news to me,” Valese grunted.
Chandler ignored the comment and continued talking to Jeffrey. “Do you think it would be out of order if we still made an appeal for the capital-fund campaign? My board members are split on the issue. The table sponsors have covered the cost of the evening, but we need the extra money to go forward with our building project.”
Alexia leaned over to Ted.
“You could do it.” she whispered.
Ted shook his head. “I couldn’t take on a building project in Charleston. Even if I worked on a crew, by the time I drove—”
“No,” Alexia interrupted. “You could play the piano.”
Ted’s eyebrows went up. “Uh, no, that’s not possible. I don’t have any music with me.”
“Don’t be silly.” She touched his arm lightly. “You have a repertoire at your fingertips. You’d be the hero of the evening.”
“Or the embarrassment.”
Ken Pinchot was leaning forward, listening. “You play the piano?”
“Ted is an accomplished pianist,” she said in a bold voice that caused the rest of the table to turn toward her. “He could substitute for Victor Plavich.”
“What?” Chandler asked.
Jeffrey seemed embarrassed. “We appreciate the offer, but fourteen verses of ‘Just As I Am’ is not what this crowd came to hear.”
Alexia flushed. “He’s professionally trained. I’ve heard him play, and he’s superb. When he was younger he prepared for the Tchaikovsky competition and studied under a famous piano teacher in California.”
“The Tchaikovsky competition?” Chandler asked with surprise.
“That was more than twenty years ago,” Ted answered. “I’d like to help, but I’ve not prepared a program.”
“Give it a try,” Pinchot interjected. “It’s a worthy cause.”
“Do you still maintain a classic repertoire?” Chandler asked.
Ted nodded.
Chandler glanced down at his watch. “If I can find a private room, would you be willing to let me hear you play?”
“I don’t know—”
“Be a good sport,” Jeffrey said. Alexia found his grin mocking. “It’s the Christian thing to do, right?”
Ted l
ooked at Jeffrey and started to speak but stopped. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes and then placed his napkin slowly beside his plate.
“Where is the private room?” he asked.
“Yes!” Alexia said in a voice so loud that she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.
Chandler looked over his shoulder. “Come with me, and we’ll ask one of the staff.”
After they left, Alexia was so excited she ignored the dessert tray as it trundled off to the next table. She turned toward Ken Pinchot.
“I’ve heard him play several well-known pieces that would work fine,” she said.
“Where did you meet him?” the older lawyer asked. “I didn’t think you went to church.”
“I interviewed him as a potential witness in a divorce case. When I arrived, he was in the sanctuary playing. I couldn’t believe my ears. He’s as good as the performers on some of the CDs I own.”
“It’s one thing to practice a closing argument in front of a mirror,” Pinchot replied. “It’s another to carry it off in front of twelve people in a jury box.”
“He can do it,” Alexia answered. “I know it.”
In a few minutes, Mr. Chandler and Ted reentered the banquet hall. Chandler returned to the head table. Ted came over and sat down. Everyone looked at him.
“Well?” Alexia asked.
“I’m going to do it,” Ted replied with a wan smile.
“Splendid!” Pinchot said. “This will be an event worth remembering.”
Ted looked at Jeffrey. “He gave me permission to substitute ‘Jesus Loves Me’ in B Minor for ‘Just As I Am’.”
Jeffrey’s eyes narrowed.
Alexia leaned over to Ted. “What are you going to play?”
“Different stuff,” he replied.
“Tchaikovsky?”
“No. Three periods: baroque, classical, romantic.”
Before Alexia could ask another question, Chandler took his place behind a podium and the room quieted. He began by identifying a number of dignitaries, then introduced the board members and asked Jeffrey and another man who apparently paid more than their pro rata share of the evening’s expenses to stand. Chandler then cleared his throat.
“Many months ago, we scheduled a performance by nationally acclaimed pianist Victor Plavich, who was to be the highlight of this event. Unfortunately, Mr. Plavich became ill this evening and has been admitted to the hospital. I received a call a few minutes ago that he will be fine but unable to perform for us tonight.”
A low murmur rippled across the crowd. Alexia reached underneath the tablecloth and squeezed Ted’s hand. It was cold and clammy.
Chandler looked at their table. “However, one of our guests has graciously agreed to substitute for Mr. Plavich. Mr. Ted Morgan from Santee studied classical piano in California and was scheduled to participate in the Tchaikovsky competition for young pianists before an injury shortened his competitive career. In the true volunteer spirit that typifies those who support our work, he will give a brief concert. Please welcome Mr. Ted Morgan.”
Modest applause filled the room as Ted stood up and walked to the piano. Alexia wanted to cheer. She quickly glanced around. The most common expression on the faces of those at nearby tables was curious doubt.
Ted sat on the bench and bowed his head, obviously praying. Jeffrey Richardson looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. Alexia’s excitement was suddenly replaced by a wave of anxiety. She’d pushed Ted forward even though he’d told her that performing classical music in public was not part of God’s plan for his life. She bit her lip. If this didn’t work, she’d owe everyone in the room an apology—especially Ted. She said her own silent prayer. Ted put his fingers on the keys and began to play.
Alexia quickly recognized Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, a Baroque composition. Ted stumbled several times in the opening measures and glanced apologetically toward the audience. Alexia inwardly groaned. Under the table, her hands grasped her napkin and twisted it in a death grip. Ted lowered his head and pressed forward. He made another serious miscue that caused Alexia to wince. Even a listener unfamiliar with the piece could tell something was amiss.
Alexia felt Jeffrey’s gaze turn toward her but avoided looking in his direction. She didn’t take her eyes from Ted. She knew that within him lay the ability to do this. He paused and stared for a second over the top of the piano toward a spot on the wall behind the head table. His focus returned to the keyboard. He lowered his head.
And the music exploded.
The composer would have been proud. An intense, latent drama that must have been within Bach’s heart filled the piece. Originally written for harpsichord, the Steinway liberated the music from the emotional straightjacket imposed by the tinny, one-dimensional sound of the harpsichord. Ted skillfully wove the work’s three primary voices into a tapestry of unexpected and inviting harmonies, yet maintained the integrity of each as a musical depiction of the Godhead—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The ultimate goal of Bach’s gift was worship, and when performed by someone who shared the composer’s faith, the music communicated not only the beauty of sound, but the fragrance of a soul that loves God.
Alexia began to weep. She sat motionless and erect as the first tears flowed down her cheeks and fell onto her dress. She glanced down and discreetly touched the corner of her napkin to her eyes.
Ted finished the piece with a pause so brief that there was no time for applause. Alexia glanced at the faces around her table. Ken Pinchot was hard to impress, but she caught the hint of tentative approval. Nicholas Valese didn’t try to suppress a yawn. Jeffrey was inscrutable.
Ted moved immediately into Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. He played the familiar piece with only a few minor mistakes and then launched into Chopin’s Grand Polonaise Brillante. Alexia was stunned. The composition lasted more than twenty minutes and contained some of the most challenging music in the piano repertoire. For Ted to play it from memory without having prepared was very risky. The extremely rapid, yet tranquil, grace notes that surrounded the melody of the opening movement, deceptively labeled tranquillo by Chopin, required a high degree of technical proficiency. Alexia held her breath. Pinchot’s expression registered obvious surprise. Even a person unfamiliar with classical piano music could appreciate the challenge of such speedy finger movement across the keys.
As she watched Ted’s face, Alexia realized that he’d entered into the realm of the music and left the room. He was as relaxed as if he was alone in the sanctuary of the Sandy Flats Church, and yet as focused as he must have been while playing for five hours with Aube Tzerko in California.
Ted moved into the second movement, the allegro molto. Legendary for stretching the capability of the piano beyond what others dared imagine, Chopin treated the keyboard as if it were a full orchestra. The allegro molto contained sounds so varied and intense that they caused Alexia’s chest to ache. It required every ounce of the pianist’s endurance and strength, because it ended with one of the most brilliant displays of virtuosity and grandeur known in the entire piano repertoire. Knowing what lay ahead, Alexia’s nervousness returned. It would be tragic if, after performing so brilliantly, Ted faltered at the end.
Instead, his determination and drive didn’t let up until he had summoned the last notes with power and authority. He stopped, and his hands dropped to his side.
Alexia knew her eyes were shining, but not with tears. Pride in Ted filled her heart. Enthusiastic applause erupted. Chandler stood immediately, clapping vigorously. Alexia joined him. Most of the room followed. Everyone at Alexia’s table stood—whether from genuine appreciation or social duty, she could not tell.
Chandler hurried across the room to Ted and pumped his arm. He then leaned over and spoke into his ear. Ted nodded. The host returned to the podium as the crowd settled down. He mopped his face with a napkin, and Alexia realized he’d been more nervous than she about Ted’s ability.
“Ladies and gentlemen, what a remarkable p
erformance we’ve heard this evening,” Chandler said. He looked toward Ted before continuing, “Especially the Chopin. Forgive me for not announcing beforehand what Mr. Morgan intended to play, but in my haste, I forgot to ask him. However, he has agreed to a brief encore.”
Standing beside the piano, Ted announced in a loud voice, “My final number will be Robert Schumann’s Kinderscenen, or Scenes from Childhood in F Major. I think it contains one of the finest melodies in the world.”
He returned to the piano bench and began to play. As Alexia listened to the composition unfold and swirl across the room, she had to agree. What a beautiful sound. Ted finished to polite applause and returned to his seat. When he sat down next to her, Alexia could see the beads of perspiration on his forehead. She gave him her glass of water.
“That was magnificent,” she whispered.
“Well done,” Pinchot added.
Jeffrey nodded in Ted’s direction and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I’ve been working on the Chopin for weeks,” Ted said in a low voice to Alexia. “I wondered why I was spending so much time reviewing it. It was the feature number of the last concert I gave in California.”
Chandler returned to the podium and a picture of a proposed building was projected onto a large screen behind him. The fund-raiser commenced, but Alexia didn’t want to leave the concert.
“What were you feeling while you were playing?” she asked.
Ted took a long drink of water. “I was thirsty.”
Alexia pursed her lips. “Okay, Mr. Nonresponsive. What else?”
Ted took another drink, set the glass down, and pointed to the ceiling with his finger. “I felt his pleasure. I wasn’t sure that I would, but it was the only way I could have done it.”
“I saw you hesitate toward the beginning of the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue. After that it was incredible.”
Life Everlasting Page 10
