“With myself.” She admitted, trying not to be embarrassed. “I go alone.”
“You go alone to the symphony?” He looked at her like she had just sprouted an extra head.
“I love it.” Linz knew she probably sounded a bit odd, or even worse, lonely. But it had always felt natural to go alone. In fact, she had gotten into the habit of buying a season subscription for not one but three seats just so she could sit by herself.
In reality, so many things felt natural for her to do alone that Linz sometimes wondered if she were emotionally stunted. Maybe if her mother had been there for her when she was growing up, she could have helped her come out of her shell. Or maybe not. She had always been introverted. She hated small talk, and she rarely let loose or did anything that could be remotely categorized as silly.
She had brought a date to the symphony once, and it had been a complete disaster. The guy had wanted to hold hands, caress her shoulder, and whisper in her ear, when all she wanted to do was close her eyes and listen to the music. She had sworn she would never bring anyone again.
“I love music too,” Bryan said. “All kinds of music,” he added, and surprised her by pulling out a small wooden pan flute from his pocket.
She laughed.
“What?” Bryan asked, pretending to look offended.
“You just carry that thing around?”
He shrugged, a bit shyly. “For special occasions.”
She hesitated, not wanting to dwell on what that could mean. “It’s beautiful,” she said, touching it. “What’s it made of?”
“Cane. From Asia.” His expression made it seem like there was a story behind it.
“Can you play?” she asked, a strange sense of anticipation building inside of her.
“Yes, but only for you,” he said and brought the flute to his lips.
He stunned her completely by launching into an exquisite song. The notes swirled and changed with incredible speed as the flute sang. Pedestrians gathered to listen, and other chess players stopped their games. But Bryan didn’t seem to notice.
Linz could feel goose bumps on her arms, and she told herself it was from the wind. Everyone clapped when Bryan finally stopped playing. He stood up and gave a bow. Someone offered him money, but he shook his head and sat back down.
“That was amazing,” she gushed.
“Thank you.” He gave her a fleeting smile, but his eyes suddenly seemed wistful.
She found herself offering, “You know, you can come to the symphony with me if you want to.”
“I’d love to,” Bryan said as he put the flute away.
She watched it disappear back into his pocket and wondered what other surprises he had in store.
*
Their seats were on the first balcony toward the left side, where they could see the conductor’s face. Linz had been eagerly anticipating tonight’s performance: Anne Akiko Meyers was going to be the guest violinist and would be playing her famous Vieuxtemps Guarneri del Gesù violin, one of the most treasured in the world.
“It’s reportedly worth over eighteen million dollars,” Linz explained to Bryan while they waited for the concert to start. “An anonymous buyer purchased it and granted her lifetime use as a gift.”
Bryan looked suitably impressed. “So it’s like a Stradivarius?”
“Yes and no.” She hedged his question. “You see, Stradivari and Guarneri were both from Cremona. They lived at the same time, only Stradivari was highly successful and died at ninety-three, which is pretty incredible considering it was the seventeen hundreds.” Bryan nodded, encouraging her to go on. “He made countless violins for rich and powerful patrons. But Guarneri … he died when he was only forty-six. He worked alone and had humbler clients. Still, his violins—they’re each called a ‘del Gesù’—definitely rival Stradivari’s.” Linz knew she was rambling but she couldn’t stop. “It was Paganini who kept Guarneri from being lost to history. He was given a del Gesù and after that he wouldn’t play anything else. He called it his Canon.”
“Sounds like you like Guarneri more.”
Now that she thought about it, it was true that Guarneri held a more romantic appeal to her. She shrugged. “Stradivari and Guarneri were both geniuses. The world has never seen anyone else like them.”
Bryan teased. “So I take it you like the violin?”
She playfully rolled her eyes.
The Memory Painter
Gwendolyn Womack's books
- The Last Man
- The Third Option
- Eye of the Needle
- The Long Way Home
- The Cuckoo's Calling
- The Monogram Murders
- The Likeness
- The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches
- The Curious Case of the Copper Corpse
- Speaking From Among The Bones
- The Beautiful Mystery
- The Secret Place
- In the Woods
- A Trick of the Light
- How the Light Gets In
- The Brutal Telling
- The Murder Stone
- The Hangman
- THE CRUELLEST MONTH
- THE DEATH FACTORY
- The Gods of Guilt (Mickey Haller 5)
- The Hit
- The Innocent
- The Target
- The Weight of Blood
- Silence for the Dead
- The Reapers
- The Whisperers
- The Wrath of Angels
- The Unquiet
- The Killing Kind
- The White Road
- The Wolf in Winter
- The Burning Soul
- Darkness Under the Sun (Novella)
- THE FACE
- The Girl With All the Gifts
- The Lovers
- LYING SEASON (BOOK #4 IN THE EXPERIMENT IN TERROR SERIES)
- And With Madness Comes the Light (Experiment in Terror #6.5)
- Where They Found Her
- All the Rage
- The Bone Tree: A Novel
- The Girl in 6E
- Gathering Prey
- Within These Walls
- The Replaced
- THE ACCIDENT
- The Last Bookaneer
- The Devil's Gold
- The Admiral's Mark (Short Story)
- The Tudor Plot: A Cotton Malone Novella
- The King's Deception: A Novel
- The Paris Vendetta
- The Venetian Betrayal
- The Patriot Threat
- The Bullet
- The Shut Eye
- Murder on the Champ de Mars
- The Animals: A Novel