Chapter Thirty
Alfred hummed the melody for days, his mind transported to Florence’s conservatory, the image of her shoulders moving with the chords like the sapphire material of her dress when they danced. He had never had the occasion to hear a pianist perform, let alone such a powerful piece, but he was hard-pressed to believe that all musicians met compositions with such conviction. He dreamed of Florence when he slept and found himself daydreaming of her as he worked. And Joseph, to both men’s chagrin, had noticed.
She was always on his mind as of late. He drew in a deep breath, trying to focus. She wouldn’t want a second-rate climatologist who couldn’t keep his attention on the simple task of taking measurements. His pen paused over the telegram as a doubt took hold. Why did she wa
