reflection of being utterly besotted. And yet, the notion of going back to her own life before Blaine filled her with panic. With a change this big, she had to have things clear: Blaine had to love her, too.
She was scared. She whispered in the dark, trying to explain the metamorphosis of the lights. Ominously beautiful and then just frightening. Of course, she knew it wasn’t really the lights so much as her state of mind. She needed something. Her words came out in small, damp, insistent puffs on his shoulder. He listened quietly. She hoped he wasn’t going to send her another bracelet, which, as she thought about it, was undergoing a transformation, too, just like the lights. Not ominously beautiful anymore, but just frightening.
She stayed in the warmth between them, or tried to, and as she lay there, Blaine reached up and turned on the light. He had never done this before, and then she heard the rustle of some papers as he began to read. Reviews of concerts that the Russian violinist had given in other cities. Carr saw a picture of the young woman’s face lost in the bouquets of roses that had been thrown on the stage, and even in this stock photo, the musician had that manner of sultry assurance, as though the erotic and the music she played were somehow intertwined. How could Carr compete with that? And then she thought with horror,
Am I competing?
Is that what has happened?
He read carefully, as though trying to remember the sound of the music that the critics were writing about.
CHAPTER 6
March 15, 2027
THE MEETING of Blaine’s board of directors took place on the first Tuesday of the month in a brownstone on a public commons. Downstairs the building had a library and a restaurant, and upstairs it had bedrooms for directors who came to these meetings from out of town. On the second floor was a conference room with green cloth wallpaper, a table with a green felt top, like a billiard table, and a window through which the trees on the commons could be seen. This was where Blaine faced his board of directors. Outside, the new leaves were the color of crème de menthe mixed with milk. As Blaine waited, he was fully aware of the way he would lose his job: in the midst of some difficulty, the board would release a statement of complete support, and then, in the space of an afternoon, they would panic and he would be asked to resign. This was the way his predecessor had been removed.
He stood in front of them, thinking about Carr’s desire to be told that he loved her. What, after all, did love have to do with what he would face here? He had trouble putting the two together, since there was so much difference between the personal aspect of his life and the fact of his business. Then he turned to face the members of the board. They were men and women chosen for their understanding of economic and social difficulties, and for their ability not to lose their confidence when dealing with trying matters. Now he was confronted by their faces, all gray bags, with necks like gray accordions, their eyes not so much lizardlike as tempered by years of experience in exceedingly tough circumstances. When one of them made a joke, it was with a raised eyebrow or a subdued comment, and even the youngest one had the look of an itinerant executioner. They were not here to be lied to or trifled with, and Blaine had learned long ago that he should never tell anything but the truth. He gave his report, going through the list of items from the Hit Parade, explaining what each worry had been, and what had been done in each case. When he didn’t know an answer, which was exceedingly rare, he said, “I don’t know. But I will soon.”
In this meeting, Blaine went through the list of items, although he and everyone else knew that at the end they would have to make a hard decision. But as far as Blaine was concerned, it was either hard medicine now or radical medicine later, and he was convinced that an adjustment in monetary policy was
She was scared. She whispered in the dark, trying to explain the metamorphosis of the lights. Ominously beautiful and then just frightening. Of course, she knew it wasn’t really the lights so much as her state of mind. She needed something. Her words came out in small, damp, insistent puffs on his shoulder. He listened quietly. She hoped he wasn’t going to send her another bracelet, which, as she thought about it, was undergoing a transformation, too, just like the lights. Not ominously beautiful anymore, but just frightening.
She stayed in the warmth between them, or tried to, and as she lay there, Blaine reached up and turned on the light. He had never done this before, and then she heard the rustle of some papers as he began to read. Reviews of concerts that the Russian violinist had given in other cities. Carr saw a picture of the young woman’s face lost in the bouquets of roses that had been thrown on the stage, and even in this stock photo, the musician had that manner of sultry assurance, as though the erotic and the music she played were somehow intertwined. How could Carr compete with that? And then she thought with horror,
Am I competing?
Is that what has happened?
He read carefully, as though trying to remember the sound of the music that the critics were writing about.
CHAPTER 6
March 15, 2027
THE MEETING of Blaine’s board of directors took place on the first Tuesday of the month in a brownstone on a public commons. Downstairs the building had a library and a restaurant, and upstairs it had bedrooms for directors who came to these meetings from out of town. On the second floor was a conference room with green cloth wallpaper, a table with a green felt top, like a billiard table, and a window through which the trees on the commons could be seen. This was where Blaine faced his board of directors. Outside, the new leaves were the color of crème de menthe mixed with milk. As Blaine waited, he was fully aware of the way he would lose his job: in the midst of some difficulty, the board would release a statement of complete support, and then, in the space of an afternoon, they would panic and he would be asked to resign. This was the way his predecessor had been removed.
He stood in front of them, thinking about Carr’s desire to be told that he loved her. What, after all, did love have to do with what he would face here? He had trouble putting the two together, since there was so much difference between the personal aspect of his life and the fact of his business. Then he turned to face the members of the board. They were men and women chosen for their understanding of economic and social difficulties, and for their ability not to lose their confidence when dealing with trying matters. Now he was confronted by their faces, all gray bags, with necks like gray accordions, their eyes not so much lizardlike as tempered by years of experience in exceedingly tough circumstances. When one of them made a joke, it was with a raised eyebrow or a subdued comment, and even the youngest one had the look of an itinerant executioner. They were not here to be lied to or trifled with, and Blaine had learned long ago that he should never tell anything but the truth. He gave his report, going through the list of items from the Hit Parade, explaining what each worry had been, and what had been done in each case. When he didn’t know an answer, which was exceedingly rare, he said, “I don’t know. But I will soon.”
In this meeting, Blaine went through the list of items, although he and everyone else knew that at the end they would have to make a hard decision. But as far as Blaine was concerned, it was either hard medicine now or radical medicine later, and he was convinced that an adjustment in monetary policy was
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