Kane by Steve Gannon Read Free Book Online Page A

Concert Hall since the new venue’s addition to the Music Center in 2003, because of a heavy performance schedule at the Disney Hall, the Philharmonic players were conducting several of their final tour rehearsals at their former home in the adjacent Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.  Heading toward the music, I ascended a metal stairway, exiting behind the Dorothy Chandler stage.  An acoustic shell, its hardwood walls rising to meet the proscenium arch in front, enclosed the entire performing area.  I peered through a small window set in the stage-right door, spotting Catheryn over the ranks of the first violins.  On her left, at the head of the cello section, sat Arthur West.
    A handsome, distinguished-looking man with a magnificent mane of prematurely graying hair, Arthur West had held the title of principal cellist for the Los Angeles Philharmonic for the past ten years.  Catheryn knew him through her longstanding association with the USC School of Music, and his encouragement had been pivotal in her joining the Philharmonic—resuming a musical career that she’d put on hold to have Tommy, our first child.  Later, following the births of Travis, Allison, and Nate, the postponement of her career—with the exception of playing in a string quartet on Wednesdays and supplementing our family income by tutoring private students—had turned out to be permanent.  Three summers ago things had changed.
    After a competitive audition, Catheryn had been selected to substitute for a young cellist taking a thirteen-week maternity leave.  Thrilled, Catheryn had accepted the temporary assignment, and the following January when the associate principal cellist had retired, Catheryn auditioned for the position.  To her amazement, but to the surprise of no one who had heard her play, she was offered the appointment.
    It was a big step, and she brought me in on the decision.  We discussed it rationally.  With the exception of Nate, the children were nearly grown.  Travis would be leaving soon for college, and Allison could occasionally take care of her younger brother.  Catheryn would still be able to keep most of her private students, teaching on mornings she didn’t have rehearsals.  We could use the extra income.  It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.  And so on.  I subjugated any objections I had to Catheryn’s taking on full-time employment, wanting her to have this chance.  Even if I had known the problems that would eventually ensue, I still wouldn’t have said no.
    As I watched Catheryn now through the glass, I noticed Arthur smiling at her as she turned the sheets on their music stand.  Catheryn smiled back, her coppery-green eyes shining with pleasure.  With an irrational surge of irritation, I turned and stepped through a small door in the stage wing, exited the backstage area, and headed into the deserted auditorium beyond.
    Moving quietly, I entered the Dorothy Chandler’s lavish, wood-paneled hall.  The stage spots, cleverly concealed in the ceiling and sweeping curves of the balcony levels, were dark, as were the wall-mounted crystal chandeliers and the rest of the house lights.  The only illumination came from a bank of utility overheads above the stage.  Ignoring the Philharmonic’s rule forbidding the presence of family and friends during rehearsals, I slumped into a seat in the orchestra section, just within the glow of the stage.  A number of players noted my entrance, including Catheryn.  She shot me a quick, uncertain smile, then returned her concentration to the music.  Noticing her glance, Arthur stared into the darkened auditorium, giving me a perfunctory nod.  With renewed irritation, I watched Arthur’s bow moving in unison with Catheryn’s.  As much as I was proud of Catheryn’s musical accomplishments, I was unable to ignore the extent to which I had progressively become excluded from a significant part of her life.
    For the next fifteen minutes I let my mind drift with the ebb