Page 101 of Theo of Golden

If his countenance were indicative of the selection he was playing, one would likely guess the song was pastoral, slow, melodic.

The portrait was rendered as a long rectangle, twice as wide as it was high. It featured Simone’s face and his left hand on the cello’s neck, just inches from the headstock. His right arm, only partially visible, was extended for a draw of the bow on the left side of the portrait.

Theo announced that the portrait would be shipped to the home of Simone’s parents. Mrs. Lavoie clasped her hands over her heart in gratitude. It would take a sizable section of wall space to accommodate so large a frame. No one doubted she would find room for it.

Finally, the recital was a fait accompli.

The audience, in no hurry, trickled out of the hall. Friends and faculty stood in a reception line to admire the portrait and congratulate Simone.

After a while, only his parents, and those who had been sitting in rows E and F remained.

They were a striking assortment of humanity, brought together by admiration for the young musician. Theo moved among them like a proud father. Simone graciously received a steady flow of compliments. Eventually, the Promenadeans were herded out of the room together.

Lamisha glanced over her shoulder at the overhead lamps as the security guard turned them off. She imagined all of those notes in hiding up there somewhere.

Simone excused himself briefly to secure the cello in his instrument locker. Once he rejoined the others, they walked en masse to the Chalice, where coffee and celebratory cake, in the shape of a cello, awaited them, compliments of Shep and Addie.

After an hour or so, members of the party began to take their leave, each with mind and heart full. They all had lots to talk about on the way home.

Ellen rode away on the Noble Invention, her blue hat bobbing like a cork on a fish pond as she moved up the Promenade.

As he walked to Ponder House alone, Theo thought to himself, I have tasted heaven.

Before he fell asleep that night, he relived the day in his mind. This might well have been the happiest day of my life. Thank you, Sir. Thank you.

Simone walked his parents to their nearby hotel. He and they moved as ones in a dream, elation in every step.

Simone stayed with them well past midnight, answering questions and telling stories about his Golden friends. He was delighted at this unexpected reunion with his parents, and pleased at the prospect of giving them a proper tour of Golden the next day.

Eventually, exhaustion weighed on his eyelids.

He kissed his parents goodnight and walked into the familiar nocturnal quiet of Broadway.

He stopped by the school to retrieve his cello before walking slowly home for much-needed and well-deserved sleep.

He hummed as he walked. Fado for Theo. Such a wonderful occasion.

“A night for the ages.”

CHAPTER 57

At first, Theo thought it was a bad dream.

It was well after midnight, and most of the weeknight revelers had retreated home, leaving Broadway to its slowly gathering silence. He had gone to bed shortly after the party for Simone, had slept soundly for several hours, and had then awakened for no apparent reason. Perhaps the adrenaline and the afterglow of Simone’s recital were still at work in his body and mind.

He put on his robe, walked to the front of the apartment, and opened the balcony doors for fresh air. Then he returned to the kitchen for a drink, chose a book to read, and settled into his easy chair in the front room. The last intermittent bits of late-night noise — voices, car doors, engines rumbling — floated in from outside. Theo sat and turned a few pages, but as the clock approached two o’clock, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He finally gave way to sleep, his head rolling to the right and resting on the chair back.

If he had been on the balcony, awake, he might have seen Ellen on her bench at the Fedder. He might have heard her singing. She was wearing her hat, sitting with her hands in her lap, the Noble Invention parked within arm’s reach. It was the same tranquil scene Theo had witnessed several times before.

The same, that is, until the athletic figures of three boisterous young men, moving southward down the median, approached the fountain. They were unsteady on their feet, bantering and laughing too loudly for that hour of night, pushing and jostling each other as friendly drunks sometimes do.

Their sort of joviality was a familiar sight along the Promenade —partygoers and bar crawlers ending the night with a final blast of noise and energy, annoying to residents who lived along the Promenade but otherwise harmless. Theo had been told that brawls sometimes occurred, usually incited by too much drink, and that revelers frequently ended up in the fountain, but he had never witnessed any such incidents.

The street lamps and store lights had long since gone dark as the three men ambled toward the Fedder. Aside from their indistinct voices, an eerie silence prevailed. There was no one else on the Promenade.

When they saw Ellen on the bench — the odd little woman apparently oblivious to their presence — their attention turned away from one another and toward her gaudy hat. It became an object of inspiration to them, a prize to be captured, a trophy to be taken. The pranksters, thinking her to be as drunk as they were — why else would she be sitting there talking to herself? — deemed her fair game for a bit of fun. And why not end the evening with some pointless bravado?

“I dare you,” one whispered to another. “Get the hat, and I pay for breakfast.”