"Philip Adler is playing Rachmaninoff." He looked at Lara as though expecting her to say something. She had never heard of Philip Adler.
"It sounds wonderful," Lara said.
"Good. We'll have supper afterward at Scotts. I'll pick you up at seven."
Why did I say I liked classical music? Lara wondered. It was going to be a boring evening. She would have preferred to take a hot bath and go to sleep. Oh, well, one more evening won't hurt me. I'll fly back to New York in the morning.
The Festival Hall was crowded with music aficionados. The men wore dinner jackets and the women were dressed in beautiful evening gowns. It was a gala evening, and there was a feeling of excited expectation in the large hall.
Brian Macintosh purchased two programs from the usher, and they were seated. He handed Lara a program. She barely glanced at it. The London Philharmonic Orchestra...Philip Adler playing Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 3 in D Minor, Opus 30.
I've got to call Howard and remind him about the revised estimates on the Fifth Avenue site.
The conductor appeared onstage, and the audience applauded. Lara paid no attention. The contractor in Boston is moving too slowly. He needs a carrot. I'll tell Howard to offer him a bonus.
There was another loud round of applause from the audience. A man was taking his place at the piano at center stage. The conductor gave a downbeat, and the music began.
Philip Adler's fingers flashed across the keys.
A woman seated behind Lara said with a loud Texas accent, "Isn't he fantastic? I told you, Agnes!"
Lara tried to concentrate again. The London deal is out. It's the wrong neighborhood, Lara thought. People aren't going to want to live there. Location. Location. Location. She thought about a project that had been brought to her, near Columbus Circle. Now that one could work.
The woman behind Lara said, loudly, "His expression...he's fabulous! He's one of the most..."
Lara tried to tune her out.
The cost of an office building there would be approximately four hundred dollars per rentable square foot. If I can bring in the construction cost at one hundred fifty million, the land costs at one hundred twenty-five million, the soft costs...
"My God!" the woman behind Lara exclaimed.
Lara was startled out of her reverie.
"He's so brilliant!"
There was a drumroll from the orchestra, and Philip Adler played four bars alone, and the orchestra began to play faster and faster. The drums began to beat...
The woman could not contain herself. "Listen to that! The music is going from piu vivo to piu mosso. Have you ever heard anything so exciting?"
Lara gritted her teeth.
The minimum break-even should work out all right, she thought. The cost of the rentable square feet would be three hundred fifty million, the interest at ten percent would be thirty-five million, plus ten million in operating expenses...
The tempo of the music was increasing, reverberating through the hall. The music came to a sudden climax and stopped, and the audience was on its feet, cheering. There were calls of "bravo!" The pianist had risen and was taking bows.
Lara did not even bother to look up. Taxes would be about six, free rent concessions would come to two. We're talking about fifty-eight million.
"He's incredible, isn't he?" Brian Macintosh said.
"Yes." Lara was annoyed at having her thoughts interrupted again.
"Let's go backstage. Philip is a friend of mine."
"I really don't..."
He took Lara's hand, and they were moving toward an exit.
"I'm glad I'll have a chance to introduce you to him," Brian Macintosh said.
It's six o'clock in New York, Lara thought. I'll be able to call Howard and tell him to start negotiations.
"He's a once-in-a-lifetime experience, isn't he?"
Once is enough for me, Lara thought. "Yes."
They had reached the outside artists' entrance. There was a large crowd waiting. Brian Macintosh knocked on the door. A doorman opened it.
"Yes, sir?"
"Lord Macintosh to see Mr. Adler."
"Right, my lord. Come in, please." He opened the door wide enough to let Brian Macintosh and Lara enter, then closed it against the crowd.
"What do all these people want?" Lara asked.
He looked at her in surprise. "They're here to see Philip."
She wondered why.
The doorman said, "Go right into the greenroom, my lord."
"Thank you."
Five minutes, Lara thought, and I'll say I have to leave.
The greenroom was noisy and already full. People were crowded around a figure Lara could not see. The crowd shifted, and for an instant he was clearly visible. Lara froze, and for a moment she felt her heart stop. The vague, evanescent image that had been at the back of her mind all those years had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Lochinvar, the vision in her fantasies, had come to life! The man at the center of the crowd was tall and blond, with delicate, sensitive features. He was wearing white tie and tails, and a feeling of deja vu swept over Lara: She was standing at the kitchen sink in the boardinghouse, and the handsome young man in white tie and tails came up behind her and whispered, "Can I help you?"
Brian Macintosh was watching Lara, concerned. "Are you all right?"
"I...I'm fine." She was finding it difficult to breathe. Philip Adler was moving toward them, smiling, and it was the same warm smile Lara had imagined. He held out his hand. "Brian, how good of you to come."
"I wouldn't have missed it," Macintosh said. "You were simply marvelous."
"Thank you."
"Oh, Philip, I would like you to meet Lara Cameron."