by Ginny Aiken
Eva sighed. “I guess I’d better be honest with you, Rissa. Georgio came to the restaurant with a purpose. He had a problem with his violin. At the music store, he was told that Al Alono was a noted violin maker and repairman. The manager told Georgio if Grandpa wasn’t home, he’d likely be at Alono’s since it was Friday evening. After dinner, I took Georgio to Grandpa, and the appointment was made for ten o’clock this morning. And you can believe I’ll be downstairs when he comes. That is, if I ever get off this phone.”
“You go, girl, and make yourself irresistible.”
“I was that last night,” Eva said in an exaggerated tone. “Today, I become plain ol’ Eva again.”
“Honey, you could never be plain. You know the Lord works in mysterious ways. I have a feeling this is going to lead somewhere special.”
Eva inhaled deeply. “Oh, Rissa. I wasn’t too realistic last night in that fanciful setting of candlelight and soft music. But in the light of this beautiful clear spring day outside my window, I have to face the fact he’s just coming to get his violin repaired.”
“Just be there,” Rissa said. “Remember, not long ago I had no idea Jason existed. Now look!”
“Oh, why are we talking like this?” Eva wailed. “A famous violinist is coming to get his violin repaired and we’re talking moonlight and roses. Last night I was just a distraction for him. Who knows; he’s probably even married.”
“Make sure you’re down there to find out.”
“Okay, gotta go. I’ll let you know what happens.”
Eva showered, then put in a CD and listened to violin music while she dressed. Applying makeup wasn’t the easiest thing to do while envisioning fragile little fairies flitting around on gossamer wings in rhythm to the airy tones of a violinist.
Unless an emergency occurred, the basement shop wasn’t open on weekends and Eva often slept in on Saturdays unless the quartet was away for a performance. Was it only coincidence—or divine providence—that she had nothing pressing for today?
Although they’d had many noted violinists come to Grandpa, and he’d been a noted one himself in earlier years, no one of Georgio’s stature had come to their shop.
Food wasn’t on her top-priority list at the moment, but a growling stomach in front of Georgio would surely be a discordant note. She toasted a bagel, slathered it with cream cheese, and downed a cup of coffee with it.
At 9:45 she switched off the music and descended the stairs to the basement shop. She floated down as if it were every day that she dressed in a silk blouse and dress slacks and took extra care with her makeup and hair. Although she’d switched off the CD, her senses could still hear the mellow strands of Vivaldi.
That is, until she walked into the basement and saw Jack tuning the object of her frustration.
Jack smiled and said, “Good morning, Eva,” just as Al said, “You going somewhere this morning, hon?”
Eva hardly glanced at Jack when she responded blandly, “Good morning.” She avoided looking at his violin and bow, which he laid on the partition near the front where customers entered the basement shop. Like last night, there was no hug for Jack, no special welcome. She gave her full attention to Al.
She laughed lightly. “I always go somewhere on Saturdays, Grandpa.”
“Mmhmm.” Grandpa gave her a sideways glance over the top of his reading glasses, which sat midway on his nose. “Beautiful day for going somewhere.“
“Right,” Jack said. “Just look out there.” He waved his hand toward the wide windows and French door. “A day without sunshine is like …”
He waited until Eva finally looked around at Al, and at him, before he finished. Her gaze questioned him.
“Well, like … night,” he said.
At least that got a groan from her, accompanied by a thin smile. He’d already determined to pretend he didn’t notice her reserve toward him and find a way to have her dispense with it. “Al and I are going to look at a shop I’m considering opening up as a music store. Come with us, Eva. I’d like to know what you think.”
Her obvious reluctance to answer gave him a good indication of what she thought. She focused her attention on the child’s violin on which Al, never idle, was affixing the chin rest that had slipped off. Al finished with the chin rest and moved away to place it with items that were ready for customers to pick up. Just as she looked over at Jack and opened her mouth to respond, a movement drew her attention to the entrance.
Jack knew, without looking toward the entry, what put the light in her eyes and the heightened color in her cheeks. It wasn’t the sunshine—but the one and only Georgio Baldovino, with violin case in hand. The door music chimed as he came in looking almost like a regular guy in slacks and a short-sleeved shirt.
Last night at the restaurant, Al had offered to take the violin home with him and assess the damage so that Baldovino could get his Stradivarius back as soon as possible. Baldovino wasn’t willing to let the Stradivarius out of his sight. Al understood that, and they’d arranged for the violinist to come this morning at ten o’clock. That’s when Jack decided to come and reassure Baldovino that Al wasn’t a mediocre repairman but as expert at making and repairing violins as Baldovino was at playing them.
After his warm and gracious greeting to a most-receptive Eva, Baldovino gave Jack a curious look, then a serious one as Al walked up to the partition.
Baldovino lay the case on the partition and opened it. “This is a Stradivarius. I’m sure you’re competent, but I do need to know your qualifications.”
“Absolutely,” Al said, gently touching the violin as if it were a newborn babe. Eva looked at it just as longingly as Jack felt.
“How long have you been repairing violins?”
Al laughed lightly. “Oh, I started about the time God gave Moses the Ten Commandments.”
Jack and Eva smiled, having heard that statement many times. Baldovino nodded, but they all knew that wasn’t enough.
“Seems that long, anyway,” Al said. “I studied violin making in LA, the oldest and most famous of such schools. I’ve been repairing them for about fifty years. I began making my own about forty years ago and now they bear my own name. A mentor and friend of mine worked with Mertzanoff.”
“Mertzanoff?” Baldovino’s eyes widened. “The research scientist who unveiled the secret of the Strad tone?”
Al nodded.
“The Alono.” Baldovino gazed at Al with an expression of awe. “I didn’t make that kind of connection last night. Forgive me.”
Al raised both hands. “No. No. I need no praise.”
“If it’s true what I’ve heard, you deserve great acclaim. Is it true that a group of two hundred leading musicians met in New York to select the violin they preferred and yours was chosen?”
Al nodded as Baldovino added, “And a Strad was included in the competition.”
That’s why Jack determined to be here this morning. To confirm to the famous Baldovino he had no reason for concern about Al repairing his violin. Jack picked up his instrument and placed it beneath his chin, lifted his bow, and played chords that Mozart had written.
Baldovino sucked in his breath, then exhaled when Jack finished. “That’s a Strad.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s the Alono.”
Baldovino’s laugh was one of disbelief. “May I?”
While Baldovino played the same chords that Jack had played, Jack’s immediate reaction was envy. Jack had the gift of perfect pitch and knew when an instrument was off the slightest amount. Baldovino had the magic touch—an artist with a gift that went beyond any amount of training or practice.
“That was beautiful,” Eva whispered when Baldovino stopped playing.
“I’ve had many great artists try out various violins in here,” Al said. “But never with such beauty. I am honored.”
“Could I take a picture of you and Grandpa to hang on the wall with the others?” Eva asked.
“Now I am honored,” Baldovino said graciously, the
n he resumed playing until she returned from her office with the camera.
Jack watched as Eva positioned Al and Baldovino facing the sunlight with the workshop background of musical instruments lying on tables and hanging from hooks and displayed on the walls. Baldovino lifted the Alono in a playing position.
“I don’t suppose you would allow me to use any of these in publicity?” Eva asked tentatively.
Jack could do nothing but watch silently as Baldovino’s dark gaze surveyed the beautiful Eva standing in front of the door. The backdrop of sunlight made a golden halo around her dark brown hair as it lay softly against her shoulders. The blue silk blouse caressed her mature figure with a soft glow.
A smile graced Baldovino’s aristocratic face as he said what Jack thought. “How could I refuse the request of such a lovely young woman? Of course, I would want to approve any project, but for my personal pleasure, I would like a picture of the three of us, then …” He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes in what Jack supposed was a flirtatious gesture. His voice held a baritone quality. “I would like a picture of you and me.” He took the camera from her willing hands and turned. “Jack?”
Jack didn’t like this at all. He didn’t mind snapping the three of them. But he didn’t care for the duo in which Baldovino held the Alono while Baldovino looked into her eyes and Eva stared at him with open admiration. Her gaze reminded Jack of how he felt about Baldovino’s short but masterful playing of a Mozart aria. However, he suspected Eva did not separate the man from the violin playing.
The picture-taking session ended and Al, who had examined the violin said, “This is your problem. There’s a slight separation here at the edge. That gives your violin an inferior tonal quality.”
Baldovino nodded as if that were no surprise. “That has happened before. You think it’s the glue?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Al said. “If the glue were stronger than the wood, that would result in mechanical stress leading to splintered wood and separated joints. Then repair would be very difficult.” He shrugged a shoulder. “This is what you can expect from having a very old instrument.” He laughed lightly. “Even if it is a Stradivarius.”
“Yes,” Baldovino said with complete confidence. “I’m convinced you know your business.” He took a deep breath. “I will leave my Strad with you.” He looked longingly at it like a mother might do when leaving her baby for the first time. Then he looked at Al. “Could I take the Alono while my Strad is being repaired?”
“It belongs to Jack,” Al said.
The clatter of plastic against the hardwood floor turned their attention to Eva, who stooped to retrieve a CD case she’d dropped. Her quick glance toward Jack and the slight flaring of her nostrils as if she’d taken in a deep breath were the only indications of what Jack knew was resentment seething inside her. Al grimaced slightly as he turned again toward the Strad, closed the lid, and zipped the case.
Glancing at Baldovino, who looked from one to the other, Jack suspected the man guessed more than Jack cared to reveal. A sly look appeared in the violinist’s eyes. “May I borrow your violin?”
“If you need to practice while the Strad is being repaired, you may do it here.” He said something similar to what Baldovino had said the night before. “I won’t part with my Alono.”
Baldovino nodded. “I would like to play it for awhile. And if it has the quality it displayed today, then I would like to buy it.”
For the first time since Baldovino walked into the shop, or even since he’d seen him at the restaurant with Eva, Jack felt in control. “It’s not for sale.”
Baldovino lowered his head slightly, and his brow furrowed. “I know the cost of great violins. I’m willing to pay the price.”
Jack knew the cost, too. He knew that if Baldovino played the Alono for several days, he would sell his soul for it. He was almost willing to do that now. But he could only repeat, “It’s not for sale.”
“Do you play this violin before audiences?”
“No way,” Jack said. “I guess you’d say I just fiddle around. Jack-of-all-trades, you might say.” He laughed lightly. Georgio acknowledged the comment with a nod, yet his gaze held curiosity.
Seeing Al’s smile and Eva’s stiff expression, Jack figured he might as well admit openly what he’d learned about his own limitations. “I don’t have the concert violin touch, if that’s what you mean. I could play it, yes. But not with the feeling you put into it with the first movement of the bow across the string. I’m sure that was recognized at an early age.”
Georgio accepted that. It wasn’t a compliment, just a fact. He gazed longingly at the Alono. “I’ve heard everything has its price. Think about it.”
Jack didn’t have to think about it. He was aware that the sale of that Alono could set him up for life without his having to start at the bottom and work his way up. It was best not to think about it. He picked up the Alono and moved it to its case. “I’ll leave it here, and you’re welcome to play it if I or Al or Eva are here.”
Eva turned not only her head, but her entire body away from Jack at that remark.
“Thank you.” Baldovino gazed a moment longer at the Alono, then the case of his Strad. Jack knew he didn’t want to leave either. Then his gaze moved to Eva. “I would feel better with some kind of security. If I can’t have the violin, I would like to take the girl.”
Eva looked over at him, then flashed a gorgeous smile when he added as if he were modest, “That is, with her permission.” While their gazes locked, Baldovino walked closer to her. “If you are willing to go with me, I would love to see some of those places we talked about last evening.”
Eva nodded, without a trace of uncertainty. Her confidence had grown along with her maturity, as well it should. She had every reason for confidence. She was beautiful, intelligent, successful—what more could a man want in a woman?
“I would like that,” she said.
Walking toward Jack, who stood at the end of the partition, she darted him a resentful glance and her silence spoke louder than words. It reminded him of a mild version of the way she’d looked at him four years ago when she’d stormed, “That violin should be mine, not yours!”
He wondered what she was thinking now. She no longer cared for the jack-of-all-trades with the Alono. She had shifted her affections to a master concert violinist with a Strad.
As she walked around him and toward Baldovino, Jack realized the violinist had watched every move, every nuance. Baldovino’s parting glance held Jack’s for a lengthy moment with something akin to challenge in his gaze. He opened the door, allowing Eva to pass in front of him. With a nod, as if he had finished a performance, Baldovino walked away from the shop with Eva.
Jack knew, without a doubt, this was a man thing.
As plain as the sunshine streaming through the glass panes, Jack knew what Baldovino’s gaze had meant. He might as well have said, “It’s your call, Jack. You want the girl. I want the violin. How about a trade? If you won’t let me have the violin, then I’ll take the girl.”
The idea that Eva would have something to say about that did nothing to assuage the uneasiness Jack felt. He had asked Eva to accompany him to his prospective shop. Her response had been to walk out and get into a black European convertible with Baldovino.
Chapter 4
Eva assumed Georgio was unattached since no female was with him, nor had one been mentioned. She didn’t protest when Georgio said he would like to drive, if she didn’t mind. Driving was both a challenge and a pleasure for him since he was accustomed to being chauffeured so much of the time.
She felt cocooned in a world of luxury after she and Georgio were ensconced in the luxury car’s deep maroon interior. Likely she would soon awaken to find this was all a dream—like an admiring fan suddenly riding around with a famous movie star. She had found Georgio easy to talk to last evening, but suddenly felt—
“Eva?”
She quickly turned her head to face him, noting that h
e was turned toward her with one arm draped over the steering wheel. A faint scent of musky male cologne mingled with the car’s aroma of leather warmed by the midmorning sun. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“You are deep in thought,” Georgio said.
She might as well be honest. “I was thinking that I feel very much the amateur in your presence.”
His glance and smile were reassuring. “That is very good for my self-esteem. It gives me the opportunity to try to impress you.”
“Your playing does that. I have a recording of your playing with the Vienna Philharmonic.”
“Were my feet not so big, that might never have happened.”
Eva looked down. “Your feet?”
Georgio laughed lightly. “You know the saying about an artist’s difficulty of getting his foot in the door. It helps to have accomplished parents and relatives who have a musical history. The doors were open before I was born.”
“There’s something to be said about your talent.”
“The genes, I think that’s called.” Georgio shook his head. “I doubt that any of my relatives have genes that aren’t musical.”
Eva laughed as he smiled. “I shudder to think what practice would have been like without the genes. Being a Baldovino, I had to become a success.”
“You sound American,” Eva said.
He shrugged slightly and looked over at her with a smile. “My mother is American, my father, Italian. I speak with an Italian accent when there. You know the saying, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’”
“That sounds biblical, like something the apostle Paul said. Are you … a Christian?”
“I didn’t realize that was a biblical quote.” He straightened in his seat and turned the key in the ignition. “I have visited some of the finest churches in the world, but generally I have time for nothing but the violin. That is why this time of relaxation before the upcoming concert is so important to me. That is why I am enjoying your company so much. You are a breath of fresh air.”
Eva loved the compliment, but she felt that was a charming way of his avoiding the subject of religion. He backed the car out of the parking space and headed down the long driveway.