CHAPTER 43 - VIENNA, AUSTRIA—OCTOBER 20, 1919
Anna, wearing a formal black dress with her mutter’s silver heart-shaped locket, entered the Great Hall of the Musikverein. Beside her was Norbie, dressed in a dark suit, and Nia, who’d recently undergone a good grooming. And walking behind her was her best friend, Emmi, and Emmi’s husband, Ewald.
Anna stopped and gazed over the grand concert hall.
The space was approximately fifty-meters-long-by-twenty-meters-wide with towering ceilings, from which dozens of crystal chandeliers were hung.
The main floor had many rows of seats, which were beginning to fill up with audience members.
An ornately decorated balcony wrapped around the entire interior of the structure, most of which was decorated in gold paint and trim.
And given the size of the hall and crowd, Anna estimated that there were over fifteen hundred attendees for the performance.
“It’s glorious,” Norbie said.
“Ja,” Anna said, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Emmi placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen so much gold.”
Anna smiled, feeling honored to have the people—and dog—she loved by her side.
Fleck had generously given Anna and Emmi a leave of absence to attend the debut performance of Max’s composition.
They’d made the long train journey from Oldenburg to Vienna, where they were provided overnight rooms at a boardinghouse, which had been arranged by Felix Weingartner, the conductor of the Vienna Philharmonic.
Anna was greeted by an usher, who led her and her group up a carpeted staircase. As they reached a private balcony section that overlooked the stage, the usher gestured to a front row of seats, one of which had a letter with Anna’s name.
Anna thanked the usher, retrieved the envelope, and then sat between Norbie and Emmi. She stroked Nia’s back and said, “Lie down.”
Nia settled at Anna’s feet.
Anna glanced to the stage with a grand piano. Her breath quickened.
“It’ll be all right,” Norbie said, as if he could sense Anna’s nervousness.
She nodded.
“Felix Weingartner has been quite the host,” Emmi said.
“Ja,” she said, fiddling with the envelope.
Norbie glanced at his watch. “If you like, you have a few minutes to read the conductor’s letter before the performance.”
Anna opened the envelope and unfolded a piece of paper.
Anna cupped a hand to her mouth. Tears flooded her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Emmi asked.
Anna drew a serrated breath. “It’s from him.”
“Who?” Norbie asked.
“Max.” Her jaw quivered.
Norbie’s and Emmi’s eyes widened. Ewald clasped Emmi’s hand and leaned in.
Anna wiped her eyes and continued to read.
Oh, Max. Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks. She accepted a handkerchief from Norbie and wiped her eyes.
Anna lowered her head into her hands and cried. She felt Norbie and Emmi place their arms around her. She took in deep breaths, attempting to calm her mind and soothe the ache in her chest.
The audience applauded as a man wearing a black tailed jacket and bow tie walked onto the stage and sat at the piano.
“Are you all right?” Norbie asked.
Anna raised her head, wiped her tears, and then looked into his eyes. “I am now.”
Norbie smiled.
The applause faded, leaving silence. Norbie and Emmi clasped Anna’s hands.
The pianist began to play the first movement of the suite, “Prelude to Light in C-Sharp Minor,” which started with somber repeating chords, like rhythmic waves on a shore.
And as a delicate melody joined the progression of chords, aesthetic chills tingled over Anna’s skin.
Memories of sitting next to Max at the piano flashed in her head.
Nia perked her ears and thumped her tail.
Tears of gratefulness filled Anna’s eyes. And she knew, deep down, that her and Max’s love for each other would live on forever through his music.