Stella had wondered whether Anton would come and she had tried to stay calm and relaxed during practice on rehearsal night which their conductor always held two days before the performance, never the day before, but had felt out of sorts, probably because she had wondered if Anton was coming, and if so if he would be alone.  The concert comprised of three parts, Beethoven, and then<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dl0IoPQM1HlU&amp;hash=8c7d9ab1b8ab18bd6bc214238abaf7d7" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l0IoPQM1HlU" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Alkan</a>, the French composer who had allegedly died when his overladen bookcase fell on him. She wasn't nervous about the Beethoven. It was a popular piece and she'd been playing it for years, but the Alkan was a frenetic piece which was just complex enough to make her think he and Sibelius were brothers.  She had been half excited, half terrified when they were told they'd be performing Alkan.  The third part of the concert was sans piano, and she would be playing third seat cello for some<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DJhB_umc9F84&amp;hash=34124029dd2c92bc67ae39ac9a4dda5d" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhB_umc9F84" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Brahms</a>.<br/><br/>She was at home the day before and relaxing, and practicing here and there, but not overly much, when she heard the 'ding' announcing a text. She grabbed her cellphone and saw that Anton had sent her a message an hour prior. He was coming! And he was bringing a woman from the modeling agency, a receptionist who had just been dumped. That was very sweet for him, but she hoped that this Chloe would not take this as more than him being nice. Would she?<br/><br/>On the day of the performance Stella was dressed in a comfortable, but attractive, slightly sparkly, charcoal dress with a swirly skirt and pumps with a low heel to avoid fatigue. Her hair was loosely pinned back and cascaded over her back. One year she had pinned it into chignon but an energetic piece saw it fall apart around her ears as she played, which had been mortifying. Since then she used a barrette to hold it back but left it tumbling over her shoulders. In her ears sat earphones as she listened to arguably one of the greatest pianists of all time and definitely this century. No one played with more nuance, and feeling than<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D4hThJ67HAeg&amp;hash=877b246783368ba63017244aa750c03f" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hThJ67HAeg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>Martha Argerich</u></a>the world renowned Argentine pianist. Argerich not only possessed a technical agility just about every pianists hoped to emulate, but she also brought her soul to the keys. Steven Hough, whom she had the pleasure to watch several times in concert had a technical mastery of the keys which was mesmerizing to say the least but she never felt the soul, the lyrical quality in him that Argerich brought to every piece she played. Looking through the curtains she saw the hall filling up. The tickets she had secured for Anton were in the third row but she couldn't see him. She hoped he would enjoy the music, and was curious to see what his opinion on Alkan would be. Alkan wasn't typical concert fare as most often the concert goers would be left reeling a little. But their piece was short, and the symphony board had been convinced that it was their responsibility to expose the city to less common fare. The musicians were busy tuning and settling down and she waited until the conductor had taken his place before she walked out, and after a small bow sat down and waited for the concert to begin.