"Eskridge-Strings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eskridge Kelly)

attentive and unobtrusive all at once. Strad could feel her hands still
trembling slightly. She folded them carefully in front of her, knowing the
Conductor saw.

"Perhaps you'll be kind enough to gather the players?"

"Perhaps you'd like a moment to yourself before rehearsal?" The other woman's
voice was carefully neutral. Strad wanted to break something over her lowered
head.

"No, I would not," she said, very precisely. "What I would like is a few moments
with my music and a full orchestra, if that can be arranged sometime before
opening night."

The Conductor flushed. "My apologies, Stradivarius."

"Well, let's get on with it," G said crossly.

She did not get to speak with the Piano until the next day. She sat on the
loading dock at the back of the hall during the midday break, enjoying the sun
and the solitude. She was far enough from the street that no mechanical noises
reached her: she heard only the creak of the metal loading door in the breeze,
the muffled, brassy warble of trumpet scales, the hissing wind in the tall grass
of the empty lot behind the building. The sun was warm and red on her closed
eyelids. A cricket began to fiddle close by.

"I thought you might like some tea."

The cricket stopped in mid-phrase. She felt suddenly angry at the endless stream
of infuriating and intrusive courtesies that were offered to the Strad.
Nevertheless she smiled in the general direction of the voice. "You're very
kind," she said. She kept her eyes closed and hoped whoever it was would put
down the tea and go away.

"Well, no, I'm not. I just didn't know how else to get to talk to you."

"I'm available to any musician. It's part of being the Strad; everyone knows
that. Please don't feel shy."

"I'm not shy. I just thought you might not want to be seen talking to me,
considering everything."

Strad opened her eyes and sat up straight. "Oh. It's you. I didn't realize. . .
. "He stepped back. "No, please don't go," she said quickly, and put one hand
out. "Please. I'd like to talk to you." He came back slowly, tall, dark,
close-cropped hair, those beautiful hands. He held two mugs that steamed almost
imperceptibly.

"Sit down."