Bob at the Plaza Read Free Page B

order.
    Gino finished talking with the waitress as we arrived at the table. “Janie, why don’t you hold off putting this in for a few minutes and come back for our friends’ orders first?” he asked her.
    “No problem,” she answered agreeably. “I’ll bring you some water.”
    David and I stripped off our layers of winter gear and sat down on the slick plastic benches, and all four of us started talking at once.
    “Whoa,” Gino said, holding up his hand like a traffic cop, “one person at a time here.” We all laughed. “David, you folks might want to decide what you’re having for dinner first. We don’t want to be late for chorus.”
    “Good point. Are you two having pizza?”
    Gino and Bev nodded yes.
    David turned to me and asked, “Roz, does that sound good to you?” I nodded yes, too. “Okay, then, why don’t we just get our usual sausage and mushroom pizza.” David beckoned over the waitress who had our water, and we placed our order.
    “Okay, now I’ve got to ask,” I said, turning to Bev, “what is up with you tonight? You’re wiggling around over there like you’re sitting on an ant hill.”
    “She’s been out of control ever since she ran into Stacey this afternoon,” Gino said indulgently. “We’re going to hear big news at chorus tonight.”
    I looked from Gino to Bev. “Well? What is it?” I asked, curious.
    “Are you sure you don’t want to wait and hear the news with everybody else?” Gino asked.
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake, what difference will an hour make? Tell us now,” I urged.
    Bev burst like an exploding dam. “We’re going to sing at Carnegie Hall!”

Chapter 2
    Practice, Practice, Practice
    “Yeah, right,” David said, in a mild, disbelieving tone.
    “No, seriously!” Bev continued in almost a frantic voice. “We’ve been invited to sing at Carnegie Hall!”
    Gino interrupted. “Hon, maybe you’d better start this story at the beginning. I think you’re getting David and Roz confused.”
    “Bev, take a drink of water and start at the top,” I chimed in.
    Bev sipped her water and made an obvious effort to organize her thoughts. “Okay, here goes. You know how Stacey’s been working with us on those songs based on lines from Shakespeare?” She sang under her breath, “‘It was a lover and his lass, with a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonnie-no . . .’” David and I nodded. We recognized it as one of our chorus songs. “Well, we’ve been singing some of those Shakespeare songs for a couple of years now, and Becky from our group posted a few videos of our performances on YouTube.”
    Bev took another drink of water. “So at some point, a conductor in England, Harvey Prout, saw our video and videos from other choruses around the country doing Shakespeare songs. When Carnegie Hall invited Prout to conduct excerpts from Bach’s Easter Cantata this spring, Prout decided the second half of the concert should be songs based on Shakespeare. So we’ve been officially invited, with eight other choruses from around the country, to sing at Carnegie Hall on April 24 th !”
    “So soon?” I squeaked, shocked. “We’ll never be ready.”
    “Oh yes we can. And for Easter!” Bev proclaimed, throwing her arms wide in excitement. “Just imagine, singing at Carnegie Hall! Easter in Manhattan!”
    “Wow,” I said softly. “Bev, that’s huge!”
    After a short pause, David joined the conversation. “I hate to dump cold water here, but who’s supposed to pay for this little shindig? I can’t see Carnegie Hall shelling out the money to bring in busloads of amateur singers to put on a concert. What about the hotel? And meals? And travel costs?”
    “David, you can be such a wet blanket,” Bev said, half-complaining, half-laughing.
    “He does have a point, though,” I observed.
    Our pizzas arrived and we paused the conversation for a couple of minutes to enjoy them. Then Gino continued. “From what Bev tells me, it sounds like people have to pay their