Free 1 - Interrupted Aria by Beverle Graves Myers Page A

the alert. None of the Albrimani henchmen will be able to get within twenty yards of the San Stefano.”
    Felice and Annetta jumped in with more questions, but my father silenced them by clearing his throat and calling for a change of subject. “Caterina Testi,” he said slowly, stroking his chin, “I know her. I didn’t realize she was singing at the San Stefano.”
    “She sings the secondary female roles but obviously aspires to much more. She and Adelina have quite a rivalry going on. Crivelli says there’s not a lot Caterina wouldn’t do to push her career forward, but today all I saw was some petty squabbling over stage directions and the like. How do you know her, Father?”
    “Oh, she grew up at the Mendicanti. Not much of a keyboard musician as I recall.” My father wrinkled his nose in remembered disgust. Isidore Amato considered the keyboard to be the highest embodiment of musical expression, with his organ in the Mendicanti chapel having the status of a particularly hallowed shrine. For him, no other instrument, including the human voice, could compare.
    Annetta passed me some more fish. “Caterina must be talented, though, or she wouldn’t have made it to the opera stage.”
    “I suppose.” My father shrugged. “Signor Conti put her on as soloist in a great many of the student concerts a few years ago. She had her admirers, but I thought she was overrated. And a bossy pest. She was always telling someone how a passage should be phrased or a note should be held.”
    “That sounds like Caterina, all right,” I said, wondering if my father had been one of those on the receiving end of what Caterina thought was her superior knowledge.
    “Yes. She was definitely not well liked and developed a reputation for being difficult to work with. I wonder how she came by the position at the San Stefano?” my father mused vaguely, his interest in Caterina waning.
    Annetta had one more comment. “Maybe some of her people had some influence with Viviani to get her hired at the theater.”
    My father replied in blunt tones, “She has no people. Like so many of the girls, she was found in a basket outside the gate with a pitiful, begging note pinned to her blanket. ‘I can’t take care of my baby,’ you know the sort of thing. It’s possible the voice maestro, old Conti, spoke to Viviani about her. Conti always seemed to have a tender spot for Caterina, but then, so many of the girls wheedle favors from him. The man’s entirely too soft, no backbone at all. Now that I recall, Caterina still sees him for voice lessons…I wonder what he charges her?” He waved a hand dismissively. “But enough of theater gossip, I’ve had a letter that should interest you all.”
    My father waited until we had put our forks down and concentrated our gazes toward his end of the table. Then, breaking into an uncharacteristic grin, he drew a folded paper from his waistcoat pocket. Holding it at arm’s length, he read, “Dearest and Most Beloved Papa.” His grin widened. “I hope this letter finds you and my sisters in good health. Many of our ship’s crew have been laid low by a fever, but I, by the grace of the good Lord, have been spared.”
    My father nodded. “Yes, Alessandro always had a good, strong constitution.” He continued reading out loud, “I will be home a few weeks earlier than I expected. Our ship should dock no later than the tenth day of December. As you know, we were bound for the Turkish port of Smyrna, but when we stopped at Crete, we were advised to sell our cargo there as the current troubles in Smyrna would surely prevent us from realizing the best price for our goods.”
    Grisella bounced up and down in her chair. “That’s only a week or two away. Will Alessandro bring us presents like he did last time, Papa?”
    Over the top of the letter, my father gave Grisella one of his critical looks, the kind of look that had caused many a Mendicanti girl to run to her room sobbing into her