CHAPTER FIVE — THE FIRST DISAGREEMENT
Gideon turned off the demonstration before the last artificial applause faded.
“Our research shows audiences respond better with a full sound bed,” he said.
Nora faced him.
“You mean people cry more easily if you tell them other people are crying.”
“It’s a memorial experience.”
“It’s a sales presentation dressed like one.”
Gideon looked toward Claire for help.
She said nothing.
Lena removed her headset and studied Nora with new interest.
“There’s another issue,” Lena said.
“The musicians aren’t hearing the same version in rehearsal that the executives approved.”
Gideon’s face tightened.
“Lena, that was an internal discussion.”
“It became everybody’s discussion when you asked the string players to pretend they were accompanying a singer they couldn’t hear.”
Claire turned to him.
“Why would they do that?”
“The system performs better when the orchestra follows a recorded tempo,
” Gideon replied.
“Live musicians can introduce errors.”
“So the orchestra is decorative,” Nora said.
“Their names are on the posters.”
Gideon tucked the tablet under his arm.
“This is how modern production works.”
Lena stepped onto the stage and pulled aside a curtain.
Behind it sat twenty empty music stands with microphones attached.
A row of speakers faced the seats where musicians were supposed to sit.
“Tomorrow those speakers play a prerecorded track,” she said.
“The orchestra is instructed to move its bows without producing sound.”
Claire stared at the stands.
“I was told we had a live orchestra.”
“You do,” Gideon said.
“They’ll be onstage.”
“That is not the same thing,” Claire replied.
Nora imagined Eli watching a violinist perform on television and asking why the bow never touched the strings.
He would notice because children noticed things adults learned to ignore.
“Why not let them play?” she asked.
Gideon described synchronization problems and the complexity of the projection.
Lena interrupted him.
“We played with the original rehearsal recordings two nights ago, and it sounded better.”
“It didn’t sound consistent.”
“It sounded alive.”
A door opened at the back of the auditorium.
Martin Vale entered with two assistants and a man carrying a professional camera.
Martin wore a gray overcoat over his suit and smiled before he reached the stage.
“Claire, I thought we agreed visitors needed clearance.”
“Father sent her,” Claire said.
Martin’s smile survived for one second longer.
“How extraordinary.”
He approached Nora and offered his hand.
“Welcome to the Wren.”
She shook it without enthusiasm.
“Do you know where the musicians’ sound goes tomorrow?”
Martin glanced at Gideon.
“Our creative team has made decisions to protect the integrity of the presentation.”
“The musicians were told they would perform.”
“They will be paid.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Martin’s eyes moved to the leather case.
“Where did you get that?”
“Henry Whitmore asked me to bring it.”
For the first time, Martin stopped smiling completely.
“That box belongs in the family archive.”
Claire moved closer to Nora.
“Father put it in her hands.”
Martin inhaled slowly.
“Then perhaps we should call him before this becomes embarrassing.”
Claire reached for her phone.
“That’s an excellent idea.”
