Ring of Fire II(99)

"I agree."



Gasping, she sat bolt upright and twisted on the bench, only to recognize Mary Simpson seated in a chair some distance behind her in the great room. "You startled me!"



Mary laughed. "Marla, my dear, I could have come in the door with clashing cymbals and you wouldn't have heard me. I don't think I've ever seen anyone focus like you do when you play."



"How long have you been here?"



"Let's see . . . I believe I came in during the middle of the Waltz in C# Minor, and after that I heard the 'Moonlight Sonata' and the 'Revolutionary Etude.' All of which, I might add, were performed very well."



Marla blushed a little. "Thank you."



The other woman stood, walked over to the piano and leaned against it. "So," she said, "have you decided on your program yet?"



"I think so . . . the instrumental part of it, anyway."



"And what are you considering?"



Marla began ticking off her fingers, beginning with the thumb. "For the flute, the first movement of the Spring concerto of Vivaldi's The Seasons."



"Good," Mary nodded.



"For the piano, Bach—either the Little Fugue in G or 'Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.' "



"Umm, I think maybe the Jesu would be the better choice, but I wouldn't argue with either one. What's next?"



"Piano, Mozart—first movement of 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik,' " ticking off the index finger.



"The transcription I heard the other day? Excellent! Next?"



The middle finger was ticked for "Piano, Beethoven—first movement of the 'Moonlight Sonata.' "



Mary frowned. That frown caused Marla to tense a little. "I agree the program needs Beethoven," Mary said slowly, "but I'm not sure that's the best piece to use. It's beautiful, of course, and you did an excellent job of playing earlier, but I'm afraid it's too still, too placid for the audience you're going to have. You risk losing their attention with that one. Hmmm, do you know 'Für Elise'?"



"I have the music for it, but I haven't played it in quite some time." Marla attempted to hide her reluctance, but Mary noticed.



"Marla, I'm really not trying to be patronizing. You are the artist, not me, and you know best at this point what you can play." Mary straightened to her full height. "But, I know these people, and I'm telling you that 'Moonlight Sonata' would be a mistake for this program. Later, after you've raised their understanding of music, they will appreciate the elegance of it. Now, they would just consider it simple, and would tune it out. You would lose them, and probably not regain their attention. For your first recital, and the first program of the music we—sorry, not we, but you—have to offer, you really can't risk that. If you don't like 'Für Elise,' then find something comparable that you like that you can work up quickly."



The older woman stared steadily at Marla as she worked through everything that Mary had just told her. She didn't like anyone telling her what she could play, but Mary was right . . . she didn't know these people. And, truth to tell, since she had never performed a recital like this at all, she really didn't have any experience of her own to guide her. It took several moments before Marla came to the conclusion that Mary was the closest thing to a mentor she had right now. Mary's experience in the world of music and the arts, although not that of a performer, was so much wider than her own, particularly in the area of production. It would be at best foolish, and at worst suicidal to ignore her advice at this stage of her career.



Decision made, Marla gave one firm nod. "I can polish up 'Für Elise' fairly quickly."



Mary smiled. "Good. You won't be sorry for the change."



"For the final piano piece," Marla resumed her program list, "I considered something by Mendelssohn, one of the 'Songs Without Words,' perhaps, but I finally decided to do one of the Chopin pieces."



"Do you have a preference?"



Marla grinned. " 'Revolutionary Etude,' of course."



"Good choice," Mary replied, her own smile broadening.



Marla set her hands back on the keys and began doodling a little, feeling good about what they had just worked out, and likewise feeling good about how her relationship with Mary seemed to be developing. When she first arrived several days ago, she was somewhat uncertain about how to react to Mary Simpson. She had heard all the stories about the Simpsons, and even though they seemed to have changed, those stories had worried her a little. Too, arriving the way she did hadn't done anything to bolster her self-confidence, either. But Mary seemed willing to give her room and not dictate her every move. She could live with that, she decided.