“You never explained what that meant.”
“It means no one expects Dominic to conduct tonight,” I said. “He’s expected to appear.”
“Appear?”
“Smile at donors. Let others take photographs with him. Stand near the orchestra so people remember whose orchestra it is.”
Thiago considered that. “So the music isn’t the point?”
“The music is always the point,” I said. “Tonight he’s the architecture around it. He’ll want the Armagnac when he gets home, and he’ll likely come in through the back door instead of the front.”
Thiago looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“He comes through the front when the evening was good.”
Chapter sixteen
Thiago
Luca and I had only been home fifteen minutes when Dominic came in through the back door, his jacket already off one arm. He crossed directly to the cabinet beside the refrigerator, found the Armagnac, and poured a glass.
Eamon followed him, working his tie loose. Dominic drank half a glass before saying anything.
“One of tonight’s donors announced an endowment,” he said. “A new chair in the orchestra library. In memory of a musician who died in 2004.” He swirled the Armagnac. “A genuinely generous act.”
“But,” Luca prompted.
“The man’s name was Armand Robinson. The donor called him Arnold.” Dominic sipped from his glass. “Twice. I corrected him both times.”
Eamon leaned against the counter. “The third time he got it wrong, Celeste stepped in.”
“Loudly,” Dominic added. “Every table heard her.”
“Did it work?”
“He said Arnold a fourth time and had the decency to look embarrassed about it.” Dominic finished the Armagnac. “Some corrections require more energy than they’re worth. Celeste has never accepted that rule.”
Eamon smiled and reached for the refrigerator door. Luca stood near the stove with his arms loosely crossed, taking inventory of Dominic’s mood.
Dominic set the glass in the sink. He looked at the two of us and didn’t comment.
“Goodnight,” he said.
Eamon pushed away from the counter. “Morning briefing after coffee.” He said it to me, then nodded once to Luca, and both of them went upstairs.
The kitchen was quiet. I heard the click of the ceiling fan’s pull chain as it turned overhead. A car passed slowly along the avenue outside.
Luca rinsed Dominic’s glass and set it on the rack. I filled two glasses of water and set one beside him.
Neither of us spoke immediately. I swallowed a mouthful of water.
“How long did it take,” I asked, “before it felt like your job? Not the logistical part. I mean managing all of it.”
He looked down into the water glass. “About a year. They say that’s how long it takes to learn a new job. After a few months, I was competent, but the job didn’t become mine until I understood the reason I was here.”
“Which was.”
