“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to buy you a bow because you’re very talented. I love the way you play, and you have a great instrument there.” He glanced down at my case. “You should have a great bow.”
While he waited for my response, I looked at the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled, and for the first time I found charm in his good-humored face. “Okay,” I replied.
“Come on, you have to meet this guy.” He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. Behind the counter stood a small man, at least seventy years old, with a bit of gray hair sprouting wildly from the sides of his head.
“Daniel, my boy,” he said in a thick German accent. “Who have you brought to me?”
“Orvin, this is my most talented student, Grace.”Wow, really? I had no idea.
I set my cello down, leaned over the counter, and shook his hand. He held my hand in his for a few seconds, inspecting it. “Small and delicate for a cellist, but strong, I can see.”
“Yes. Grace needs a new bow, and I’d like for her to have the best.”
“Sure, sure, I have something that would fit her perfectly.” He went into the back room and came out with the most beautiful bow I had ever seen. He handed it to me, and the soft wood at the base felt like butter between my fingers. “Wow, this is so smooth.”
“It’s brazilwood and real silver, made with the finest horse hair,” Dan said. Orvin nodded. A moment later, Dan pulled his checkbook out of his back pocket, looked over to Orvin, and arched his eyebrows.
“Eleven,” Orvin said.
“Eleven what?” I said, my voice rising.
Neither answered me. “Be right back,” Orvin said, heading into the back room and returning a moment later with the bow wrapped up.
Dan handed him a check, took the bow, and looked over at me. “Ready?”
I shot him my best hairy eyeball. “You’re kidding me, right? You just bought me an eleven-hundred-dollar bow?”
“Consider it an investment. Come on.”
Once outside, he tried to hand me the bow wrapped in paper.
“Really, Dan, I can’t accept this. I seriously cannot pay you back. I barely have enough money to eat.”
“Then let me take you to dinner,” he said, instantly.
I stared up at him, blinking my eyes, while he waited for my answer.
“I . . .”
“It’s not a date, Grace.”
“It feels like a date.” I was hesitant to agree; I still wasn’t sure what Dan wanted from me.
“It’s just a meal. We can talk about the orchestra I’m forming this summer. I was thinking I’d like you to be a part of it.”
“Okay. Um . . .”
“Come on. Please?”
My college music professor was begging to take me to dinner. I looked around for other signs that I had been transported to an alternate universe.
“What time?”
“I’ll come by Senior House at seven. You like Thai food?”
“Sure.”
