Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Twenty euros is not enough!’ Carly threw the ticket back into the basket Ms. Maxhammer held in her free hand. ‘The maximum seating capacity of this vineyard is three hundred, and even if we sold out,’ she calculated the math in her head. ‘That would raise six thousand euros—not enough to save the winery.’
Ms. Maxhammer placed the basket by the entrance to the patio. She wore a spotless white pantsuit more suited to a fashion runway than a dilapidated vineyard. A chunky, golden chain necklace draped across her neck. ‘Our other concerts were either free, or less than ten euros, so this is already a hefty price increase. You forget, we didn’t come here to make a fortune. Maestro Braun raised the money himself to pay for the orchestra’s expenses. This tour was a publicity stunt, no more.’
Carly’s heart sunk. ‘But Michelangelo needs the money now.’
‘The trick is to get them here in the first place to see the beauty firsthand, then they’ll spend their money. You worry about your aria, and I’ll worry about the dollar signs.’ Ms. Maxhammer winked at her and handed her a program. The president of the board had printed them this morning, with a picture of Michelangelo’s winery on the front cover. The cover looked lovely, but it only served to remind Carly of what they had to lose.
‘All right.’ Carly sighed and walked to her seat in the orchestra. Ms. Maxhammer was a shrewd businesswoman. She could calculate funds better than a tax collector. Carly just had to trust her. She wasn’t sure what Ms. Maxhammer had up her sleeve, but it had to be good.
The layout of the winery forced the crew to intersperse the audience amongst the rows of vines. It was hard to tell how many people were there. Spreading the audience out probably made it seem larger than it really was. Some chairs were empty.
Fighting her inner doubt, Carly plopped into her seat. The battle wasn’t over yet. They still had a concert to play, and she owed Alaina a breathtaking aria.
Could she play her best?
She had to. Too much rested on this one performance. The concertmaster stood and signaled for her to give the first tuning note. The murmurs in the audience settled. Carly stuck her reed in her oboe with determination. She took a deep breath and played a soaring tuning note that resonated across the vineyard. The strings tuned, followed by the woodwinds and brass. Silence settled over the vineyard, punctuated by the chirps of finches.
Maestro Braun walked on stage in his penguin-tailed tux. Carly felt a rush of adrenaline as the audience applauded him and the orchestra tapped their feet in admiration. He acknowledged the audience then turned to the orchestra and raised his baton.
The first two pieces went well, giving Carly some confidence leading into the aria. The intermission came and Ms. Maxhammer walked on stage. Three members of Michelangelo’s crew followed her, carrying bottles of wine, jewelry, and fine silk scarves. She announced an auction to the audience, and invited them to come up to the stage and bid.
Genius. But auctioning off pleasantries still wouldn’t raise enough money to save the winery. If that’s all Ms. Maxhammer had up her sleeve, they were doomed. Carly slipped into the office to change into her now-famous red dress for the aria.
Alaina stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair. She’d already changed into her glaring monstrosity and the sequins almost blinded Carly as she turned toward her.
Alaina caught her eye in her reflection. ‘Quite a nice place. But I don’t have to convince you now, do I?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come now, we both know you went for Michelangelo because of his winery.’
Carly’s mouth dropped open. Panic rose up until she saw a smile creep into Alaina’s mouth.
‘I’m only joking.’ Alaina clicked the cap back on her red lipstick. ‘I hope you two are happy, even if you stole him.’
Carly shrugged, feeling as though she toyed with a prize she couldn’t claim—a prize Alaina would die for. ‘I haven’t even figured out what I want. Congratulations are a little premature.’
‘Well, if it’s with him or someone else, I hope you do find love.’ Alaina’s tone had become surprisingly serious, making Carly glance up and meet her gaze.
The diva gave her a solemn nod, then went back to applying her mascara. Warmth spread through Carly. Maybe they had finally reached a good place together.
She hoped so, for her and the sake of the aria. ‘I hope you find someone one of these days.’ Carly pulled her dress over her head.
‘Oh he’s out there somewhere.’ Alaina mused, looking out the window across the vineyards. ‘But, for now, I have to focus on this aria. I have the famous, or should I say infamous, Christian Delacanto coming from the Gazzetta di Milan. He’s come exclusively to critique our aria, per my request.’
Meaning, she’d paid him big bucks just to show up. Carly gulped, trying to convince herself they had a chance. ‘Why did you choose him?’
‘Because his opinion matters, and with our ratings so far, we need a gem of a quote to salvage anything at all from this entire tour.’
They had their work cut out for them, but Carly wasn’t going to give up. She’d give Alaina the best accompaniment she could muster. For the first time, she thought Alaina deserved it.
‘Let’s give him something to talk about.’ Carly zipped up the back of her dress and headed for the door.
A lot of the audience lingered on stage, gathering around the silent auction items. Ms. Maxhammer clapped her hands, signaling the end of intermission, and the concert-goers trickled off the stage back to their seats.
A surreal sense of displacement came over Carly, as though she was standing outside herself looking at a crucial moment in her own life. One blink and she saw herself running with Michelangelo’s kids—her kids—down the rows of vines. The next blink, she was back in Boston, fighting the congestion to get to her gig on time.
A long note rang out, bringing her back to reality. The second oboe tuned the orchestra.
‘Well, here goes nothing.’ Alaina stood beside her, smoothing her dress down the front. Then, she reached over and touched Carly’s arm gently. ‘Two women singing about love—and neither of us can seem to get it right. What’s that say about us, eh?’
For the first time, Alaina’s wide eyes shone with vulnerability as she scanned the crowd.
Carly’s confidence wasn’t the only one shaken by the tour. For the first time, she felt bad for the diva. Not only did the woman think she’d stolen Michelangelo, but she’d also bombed on her big investment to push her career. She wasn’t so different from Carly—sweating through the gigs, always looking for the next step up the ladder. If she had to pay to have her own solo, then she wasn’t as established as she liked people to think. Carly’s determination hardened. ‘Let’s show them we know what we’re talking about.’
Maestro Braun invited them on stage, and the audience politely applauded as they walked in front of the orchestra. Scanning the audience, she saw Michelangelo sitting in the front row besides his mother, holding her hand. Signora Ricci smiled at Carly. The old woman narrowed her eyes and nodded reassuringly, as if she knew Carly could do it.
If that wasn’t enough of a cue, then Carly didn’t know what was. She brought her oboe to her lips, took a deep breath, and began the aria.
Only this time it didn’t sound as though she was playing the same notes. Her music danced, freed of the constraints of the bar lines. Pure joy welled up within her, echoing the moment she had played with Michelangelo last night. That was love, and she finally could express it through her oboe. Bach had it right all along.
Alaina’s eyebrow rose as she listened to the final bars of the prelude and took her breath to come in. Carly’s joy was contagious, because Alaina’s voice danced, light and buoyant on top of Carly’s sound. Every beat fitted into place, and they swelled together in a lovely climax. The orchestra accompanied them in perfect harmony. Carly ended the solo, and her last note resonated over the vineyard, followed by the chirps of finches.
Applause erupted twice as loud as when they were introduced. The first row stood without Michelangelo’s cue, and the second row, and the third. Alaina gestured to Carly, and they bowed together. The applause continued when they walked offstage, inviting them back for a second bow. The applause surged as Alaina came back on after Carly. The opera diva beamed as she waved to the crowd.
Carly looked for the critic and found him clapping wholeheartedly. Was that a smile that spread through his lips? But, she only truly cared about Michelangelo and his mother’s reaction. They stood, smiling and clapping together, and she could almost picture them fifteen years younger, watching a concert together when his mother had taken care of him and not the opposite. She breathed with relief. Mission accomplished.
Ms. Maxhammer came onstage with two bouquets of wild flowers. ‘Courtesy of Michelangelo. These are from his fields.’
Carly’s throat tightened as Ms. Maxhammer handed her the first bouquet. Maybe not the best idea in the world. If Michelangelo had wanted to make amends with the soprano, he should have given her at least a few more days to cool off. Carly’s heart sank as reality hit her. He didn’t have a few days. They were getting on a plane tomorrow.
Alaina eyed the bouquet with skepticism. Would the diva make a scene and throw them on the stage?
‘For me?’ Alaina turned to Ms. Maxhammer.
‘Yes, he specifically said to give you one, too.’ Ms. Maxhammer gave her an encouraging nod. ‘One of the reasons why he planned this concert was to make it up to you.’
Alaina gracefully accepted the bouquet with a poker face. She sniffed the flowers, then turned to Michelangelo in the audience.
Carly’s fingers tightened over her bouquet, crushing the stems. Here we go again.
Alaina simply nodded, smiled at the audience, then walked off stage.
What? No temper tantrum, no finger-pointing? Carly followed her, baffled. As they walked back to their dressing room, Carly couldn’t help but ask. ‘You accepted his flowers?’
Alaina picked up the hem of her dress so the fabric wouldn’t touch the grass. ‘Why wouldn’t I? Our aria was phenomenal. He gave us a chance to perform again, and we succeeded. You’ve already won him over. What else can I expect?’
‘I just thought you’d…’
‘Make a scene?’ She waved her hand. ‘I know when to throw in the towel—or in this case, the sour grapes. Besides, wouldn’t want to leave a bad taste in Signore Delacanto’s mouth after that beautiful performance now, would I?’
Carly almost choked with surprise. Even if Alaina had been gracious in order to impress the critic, her unexpected composure still impressed her. Maybe the diva could be reasonable after all.
Carly stopped in her tracks and turned toward her. ‘I can’t see why he’d have anything but praise. You really did sound like an angel.’
‘That’s because you played like one. Even if your dress was only half as beautiful as mine.’
Alaina gave Carly a half-smile that hinted she was only joking, and Carly laughed despite herself. ‘I’ll have to get an electric cord and a power source if I’m going to compete with that.’
Too bad the tour was over and they were no longer roommates. Carly was starting to like her.