Carleton nodded as Bailey finished and closed the folder. "Thank you, Frank. Do I hear a motion…"
"I move the minutes of the last meeting be approved as read," Chumley rattled.
Carleton nodded. "All right. Do I hear a second?" Christina waved her hand casually, and he nodded again. "Moved and seconded – the minutes are approved as read." He picked up the list of agenda Bailey had given him and looked at it. "There being no unfinished business, we'll move on to the current agenda. The first thing we have is a revised union wage scale which Mr. Albertson…"
"Does this mean we're raising wages?" Chumley demanded.
Christina looked concerned as she raised her eyes from the pad, and everyone looked at Albertson. He shook his head as he took a folder out of his coat pocket. "No, there won't be any raise because of this. As you know, everyone is getting over the minimum scale now…"
"Then why are we going into this?" Chumley asked, his voice becoming more belligerent. "There's no point in starting a lot of talk about wages and getting everyone thinking about them, because if we do then we're going to get ourselves into a situation where…"
"Let Charlie talk, and perhaps we'll find out why we're bringing it up now," Christina snapped.
Albertson cleared his throat and took a sheet of paper out of the folder. "Well, it's a union rule that management has to be informed when there's a change in the union wage scale, regardless of what's being paid. It's just a formality."
Christina shrugged and looked back down at the pad, doodling again, and the piece of paper fluttered from hand to hand as it was passed up the table to Carleton. Chumley was still frowning. "Well, I still don't see…"
"So you don't see," Christina said. "If it's a rule then it's a rule and let's be done with it – put it in the minutes and forget about it."
Carleton nodded, passing the sheet of paper back and nodded to the woman at the end of the table who was taking shorthand notes. "Pass it down to Betty. Betty, make it an attachment to the minutes, if you would. Is that all, Mr. Albertson? Very well – thank you. Let's see… the next item is the upcoming gala performance."
"We'll present Symphonie Fantastique and Mahler's Fifth," Jannison said.
Everyone looked at him more or less blankly except for Christina, Albertson, and Bailey, and Janice looked down at her hands as a sharp, quick pang shot through her. The bitter-sweet, fiery-cool flow of memories, at once poignant, soothing, and painful. Mahler's Fifth. It had been one of Lisa's favorites. Mahler's Fifth had been the opus Lisa frequently selected to conduct at the festivals and at the Staatsoper. The performances had always been magnificent. Beautiful, wonderful Lisa and the fire and fury of Mahler. There was a stinging sensation behind her eyelids. The conversation was still going on, and Janice pulled her mind back to the present, trying to tug it away from the haunting memories.
They were discussing Jannison's coming vacation. He was taking it early because his daughter was seriously ill, and he was going to be with her. That meant Janice would have to break the orchestra in on the Mahler, and it also meant that she'd have to handle the rehearsals and the forthcoming Youth Concert Week by herself. It would be a crowded three weeks or so, but it could be managed by skipping the self defense classes and perhaps getting a substitute to take a few of the orchestra classes. Mahler's Fifth. Lisa always found conducting it so exhilarating. Strange; after conducting, Lisa was always tired but radiantly excited and exuberated, while Janice was usually withdrawn and melancholy. Once they'd made love in Lisa's dressing room after she conducted Mahler's Fifth.
The Youth Concert Week was being discussed.
Carleton was looking at a piece of paper in his hand and speaking directly to her. Jannison, Albertson, and Bailey were giving her wary, almost alarmed glances. Her mind snapped back.
"…they were available, so we scheduled them into the music hall during Youth Concert Week. This is bordering on the verge of being outside the scope of the trustees' function, but we decided…"
"Mr. Carleton, why wasn't I brought in on this?" Bailey asked. "Surely as general manager of the organization…"
"Now wait a minute, Frank, just wait a minute. There's been no firm commitment made or anything, and it came up fairly suddenly. There's also a bit of a snag in it, and it's sort of up to Doctor Wycliffe as to whether or not we can work it out. Now just let me finish, and everyone will get their chance to have their say." He looked down at the piece of paper, then back up at Janice. "It would considerably broaden the range of selections and music to be presented, Doctor Wycliffe, and they're supposed to be very good. There's a total of sixty instruments in the group, but the snag is that their leader will be absent during this period. Now, we thought that you might be able to work it into your schedule…"
Irritation began to swell within her, bordering on the verge of anger, and she gripped herself and controlled herself to keep from interrupting him. Everyone was looking at her. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and pressed them together, tightening her control. He was finally through, and he was looking at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Mr. Carleton…" She broke off and cleared her throat, starting again. "Are you suggesting that I conduct electronically amplified instruments?"
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again as he looked down at the piece of paper. "Well, uh… I suppose they use… amplifiers, but…"
"That's why I should have been brought in on this before it got this far," Bailey said. "I could have told you…"
"Wait a minute, now!" Chumley snapped belligerently. He looked down the table at him. "Just exactly why can't you conduct them? Everyone talks about your qualifications all the time as though you're the greatest musician…"
"I am a symphony musician, sir," she said, her voice quiet but the tone penetrating and acid. "I will not lead a glee club, grind an organ, playa hurdy-gurdy, conduct a minstrel show, lead a group of troubadours, or provide violin music for an act of trained dogs. I am a symphony musician."
"Then you're saying that it's below you, or that you…"
"I said no such thing, sir," she replied, her voice even quieter but cutting through the taut atmosphere like a whip cracking. "And please do not attempt to interpret what I say in other terms you, sir, are not capable of thought sufficiently cogent. I meant to cast no aspersions on popular music, nor did I do so. Popular, mainstream music is an important if somewhat transitory element in the culture of any people. However, my education and training are directly solely toward symphony music, and I will not entertain the thought of participating in any other style of music."
"Well, maybe we'd better look at your contract and see…"
"Look at it," Bailey said, a triumphant note in his voice. "It specifically states that there will be no recording or amplifying devices in the auditorium while Doctor Wycliffe is conducting, and it also specifically states that the only electrical devices in the entire music hall will be the lights and ventilation. All other devices will be turned off or disconnected, and the curtains will be operated manually if it's necessary…"
"Sounds like a bunch of foolishness to me," Chumley growled, pushing irritably at the pad and pencils in front of him.
"Who in the hell asked you?" Christina snapped.
"All right, all right," Carleton said, rapping his pencil on the table in front of him. "It appears that this matter is shelved for the moment…"
"…lack of cooperation…" Chumley muttered.
"…and we'll move onto something else." Carleton gave Chumley a cool glance. "And anyone who wishes to address the group at large will be recognized by the chair. Otherwise, let's maintain order and get on with the meeting. For the record, let's have it duly noted that we were remiss in not bringing the general manager in on this matter at the beginning it's now apparent, I believe, that it would have saved us trouble and possibly spared some ill feeling… we haven't offended you, have we, Doctor Wycliffe? We certainly meant no…"