Kira at Tanglewood
Copyright© 2026 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 2
When Rachael awoke in the morning, it was to the sound of scritching of a pencil on paper. She looked over and saw Kira sitting at a table, a reading light providing illumination. Kira would suck on the pencil, the middle of it, for a minute, then write a few dozen notes or erase some. She was intent, oblivious, Rachael thought, to the time.
“How long have you been at that?” Rachael asked, sitting up, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Kira looked in her direction and smiled shyly. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Rachael got up and sat down at the other chair at the table, and leafed through the papers. “I don’t think John expected you would have this ready quite so soon,” she said dryly.
“It came to me last night,” Kira said, holding her chin up a little defensively. The trees here were very different from the ones at home, but they spoke even more about music. They had been fascinated by Kira, by what she’d written, and offered innumerable comments and suggestions.
Rachael sighed, shaking her head in admiration. “Even the orchestration. Mozart, Kira. Mozart could write a concerto or something in an afternoon. He specialized in that really ... he was really sort of a pop music writer in his time. Like John. Like John, though, he wrote some lasting music.”
She leafed through the staff sheets. “Strings, flute, oboe, bassoon, horns, clarinets. Saxophones, for heaven’s sake! Trumpets! Trombones! Even percussion!” She looked at Kira. “It’s all here. How do you do it?” Rachael shook her head, without waiting for Kira to answer. “I’m going to take a shower. When I’m done, it’ll be your turn, then we’ll get some breakfast, and after that we’ll go run off some copies.”
An hour later, Kira had had breakfast, and she and Rachael were running off copies on the copier in the office. Then Rachael showed Kira where John was. “This is called the Shed, it’s the main stage here.” Rachael told her. “John’s over there.” She pointed to a knot of people. “You take the music to him, give it to him, and smile prettily. After that, do whatever he says. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Kira nodded and did as she was told. John took the music with a small question on his face. He was in the middle of a discussion, and he finished it before looking through what he’d been given.
He took a minute, then another. He glanced at her, no expression on his face. “I wrote this in the car, coming over from Boston. There is no way on earth you could have known about it, none. Yet...” He shook his head. “Did you get any sleep?”
Kira nodded, but held her fingers up about an inch apart. “Liar!” he sneered, but he was laughing.
“Rachael helped with the copies,” Kira told him, the only mitigation she could come up with on short notice.
“But not the music.”
Kira shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.” He gestured to one of the young men a few feet away. “Please tell the orchestra, rehearsal is changed to 10 a.m. instead of 10:30.”
The boy blinked and moved away, stopping at several small groups of musicians practicing.
John read through the music again, then looked at Kira. “You have a devious mind, Miss Kinkaid.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me!” He laughed. “I like devious. This is outstanding.” He waved the music in his hand. “Taylor sent me videotapes of your concerts. Taylor Ford is easily one of the top ten conductors in the country. Jerry Gora, well, he’s in a class by himself. The most outstanding conductor of young people on the planet. Rachael is not bad, not bad at all.
“This,” he tapped the music, “well ... pretty good.”