I extend my condolences on the death of Herr Benesch, and I apologize for the late reply to this inquiry. The package had been set aside while the Vienna Philharmonic was on a brief hiatus due to the war. I’ve recently had the opportunity to review the composition. I am most impressed with Herr Benesch’sLight Suiteand would like to commission the piece.
Anna’s hands trembled. She took in a deep breath, struggling to calm the emotions swelling inside her.
According to Herr Benesch’s letter, you are the inheritor of his estate, which would have the rights to his composition. Assuming the piece remains available, I would like to commission the work to be included in a concert this upcoming season at Vienna’s Musikverein.
The Great Hall. Tears welled up in Anna’s eyes.
The instructions in Herr Benesch’s letter called for you and your guests to attend the debut performance of his composition. I hope that this letter finds you well, and I look forward to your reply.
Sincerely, Felix Weingartner
Anna, her heart swelling with joy, put down the letter. She turned to Norbie, his cheeks covered in tears, and hugged him. “He did it,” she cried.
CHAPTER43
VIENNA, AUSTRIA—OCTOBER20, 1919
Anna, wearing a formal black dress with hermutter’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.
