After that day, Cody had to endure nothing but coldness from Kristina. His hopes had been utterly dashed. She barely spoke to him while they prepared for Sunday"s service. He told her what hymns he wanted, and she played them, but her performance had become erratic. Sometimes she blasted the congregation with unwarranted passion. Other times she played listlessly with little attention to the rhythm, hitting the wrong notes.
The following Wednesday night, after his abysmal failure of a first attempt at directing the choir, he sat in front of his fireplace, sipping tea morosely.
“What is wrong with them? Why did they sing so well when I first came and so badly now? Why were they so unwilling to follow the simplest directions? I know they"re used to a certain sort of direction, but honestly
