When Earl left, I listened to my messages. Three were from him. Good God! Will he ever stop worrying about me? Five were from other orchestra members excited about the review, including my concert mistress. Gail sounded exceedingly excited. Her message lasted longer than any message I’d ever gotten. It lasted until the machine cut her off.
One was from Alan Simpson, the conductor of the University Orchestra, reminding me about my lecture next Friday, and the last was from Jim Welch, the president of the trustees, most likely to congratulate me about the review.
I called Alan right away.
“Oh, Shelby,” he said as he answered. “I was at your concert on Saturday and I have to tell you that the reviewer didn’t do you justice! You weren’t just electrifying; you were twenty-thousand volt elect
