you’ll take that stage soon.” With those words, Luke disappeared into the corridor and descended the staircase.
When he was gone, Rebecca shut her door with a soft click and tried to collect herself. It would be ridiculous to bring her parasol after the exchange they had shared, so Rebecca settled for a feathered hat. It was hideous. Tearing the hat off her head, she decided to pin her hair up as tightly as possible, and that would have to be modest enough. She refrained from applying cosmetics, as she did not want Luke to think she had dismissed him so she could primp. Rebecca merely wanted to make him wait.
Moments later, Rebecca glided down the stairs to meet Luke on the ground floor, where he stood staring up at her admiringly. Just as he had the other day, Luke tipped his hat for her benefit, and she could not help but feel flattered by this exhibit of gallantry.
“Shall we?” Luke offered his arm to Rebecca. She linked her slender arm with his bulky one and they were off into the radiant sunlight.
Their stroll to the rail station was leisurely and pleasant, highlighted with engaging discourse about classical music and celebrated composers. “How do you feel about Edvard Grieg?” Luke asked spontaneously , as they passed a garden square with vivid tulips, marigolds , and roses in full fragrant bloom. While awaiting her response, he picked a short-stemmed flower and stuck it in his lapel, then selected a red rose and offered it to Rebecca. “To complement the fiery shade of your hair…Becky.”
“Thank you…Luke.” She addressed him by name for the first time, and he looked deep into her eyes with obvious pleasure. “Red roses are my favorite. And as for Grieg, well he must be the most brilliant man ever to come out of Norway!”
“You mean other than Ibsen?” Luke clarified, referencing the playwright whose works he had devoured in high school.
Rebecca wrinkled her nose distastefully. “More brilliant than Ibsen, I would say . It’s nothing personal against him, but I never enjoyed reading theatre. Theatre was meant to be performed, not read from a textbook .”
“Yes, well, Ibsen’s plays have been performed once or twice.” Luke reminded her with amused sarcasm as she grinned.
“Of course they have. I suppose I was thinking of how my grandmother made me read those plays as a girl. She was a very strict tutor and made certain that I became acquainted with every cultural gem she could get her hands on.”
“So your grandmother schooled you?” Luke probed.
“Yes, but that’s a story for another day.” Rebecca said evasively. “About my beloved Grieg…I could listen to his Piano C oncerto all day long. Is that part of your repertoire?” Rebecca asked, imagining what it would be like to hear Luke recreate the stunning piec e of music on the piano.
“As a matter of fact, that concerto is the piece I played when I auditioned for Mr. Grayse n. But then he told me that the orchestra needed a violinist , so I switched to Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto .” Luke recalled fondly, struck by the fact that Rebecca should ask him about that particular piece.
Rebecca looked at him through eyes as pearly blue as the summer sky and marveled, “That must have cinched it for you. I’m sure you hooked him from the first note!”
“Thank you, Rebecca.” Luke returned her intense gaze, then pointed ahead of them. “There’s the rail station. Prepare yourself for a glorious day in Salzburg!”
They boarded the train just as the departure whistle was blowing. Luke deferred to Rebecca and let her take the window seat, as he sat close by her side. The train ride through the Austrian countryside was marked by breathtaking scenery. Ridged mountains surrounded mystically crystal lakes where Narcissus himself would have admired his reflection for hours. Fields filled with shepherds tending their wooly flocks stretched over sprawling
When he was gone, Rebecca shut her door with a soft click and tried to collect herself. It would be ridiculous to bring her parasol after the exchange they had shared, so Rebecca settled for a feathered hat. It was hideous. Tearing the hat off her head, she decided to pin her hair up as tightly as possible, and that would have to be modest enough. She refrained from applying cosmetics, as she did not want Luke to think she had dismissed him so she could primp. Rebecca merely wanted to make him wait.
Moments later, Rebecca glided down the stairs to meet Luke on the ground floor, where he stood staring up at her admiringly. Just as he had the other day, Luke tipped his hat for her benefit, and she could not help but feel flattered by this exhibit of gallantry.
“Shall we?” Luke offered his arm to Rebecca. She linked her slender arm with his bulky one and they were off into the radiant sunlight.
Their stroll to the rail station was leisurely and pleasant, highlighted with engaging discourse about classical music and celebrated composers. “How do you feel about Edvard Grieg?” Luke asked spontaneously , as they passed a garden square with vivid tulips, marigolds , and roses in full fragrant bloom. While awaiting her response, he picked a short-stemmed flower and stuck it in his lapel, then selected a red rose and offered it to Rebecca. “To complement the fiery shade of your hair…Becky.”
“Thank you…Luke.” She addressed him by name for the first time, and he looked deep into her eyes with obvious pleasure. “Red roses are my favorite. And as for Grieg, well he must be the most brilliant man ever to come out of Norway!”
“You mean other than Ibsen?” Luke clarified, referencing the playwright whose works he had devoured in high school.
Rebecca wrinkled her nose distastefully. “More brilliant than Ibsen, I would say . It’s nothing personal against him, but I never enjoyed reading theatre. Theatre was meant to be performed, not read from a textbook .”
“Yes, well, Ibsen’s plays have been performed once or twice.” Luke reminded her with amused sarcasm as she grinned.
“Of course they have. I suppose I was thinking of how my grandmother made me read those plays as a girl. She was a very strict tutor and made certain that I became acquainted with every cultural gem she could get her hands on.”
“So your grandmother schooled you?” Luke probed.
“Yes, but that’s a story for another day.” Rebecca said evasively. “About my beloved Grieg…I could listen to his Piano C oncerto all day long. Is that part of your repertoire?” Rebecca asked, imagining what it would be like to hear Luke recreate the stunning piec e of music on the piano.
“As a matter of fact, that concerto is the piece I played when I auditioned for Mr. Grayse n. But then he told me that the orchestra needed a violinist , so I switched to Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto .” Luke recalled fondly, struck by the fact that Rebecca should ask him about that particular piece.
Rebecca looked at him through eyes as pearly blue as the summer sky and marveled, “That must have cinched it for you. I’m sure you hooked him from the first note!”
“Thank you, Rebecca.” Luke returned her intense gaze, then pointed ahead of them. “There’s the rail station. Prepare yourself for a glorious day in Salzburg!”
They boarded the train just as the departure whistle was blowing. Luke deferred to Rebecca and let her take the window seat, as he sat close by her side. The train ride through the Austrian countryside was marked by breathtaking scenery. Ridged mountains surrounded mystically crystal lakes where Narcissus himself would have admired his reflection for hours. Fields filled with shepherds tending their wooly flocks stretched over sprawling
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