The concert hall was packed. But then, it was always full when Marco Andalucci came to town. I have attended every concert he’s given here in our town since I was a little girl. I sat in the cushioned chair between my father and my sister, Hazel, waiting for the concert to begin. My mother, Anna Christina flipped the program over, looking at the names of the pieces to be performed. Papa grunted, shifting in his chair as he tugged at his tie. He hated dressing up and much more preferred his usual work attire while working in the vineyard our family owned.
“Oh how I hate this tie,” he grumbled tugging at it again.
I patted him on the arm. “But you look so handsome, Papa. You are by far the handsomest man in the whole hall.”
He continued to grumble a bit but the corners of his mouth curved and his eyes were twinkling, letting me know that he wasn’t angry. He secretly liked coming to the concerts. And more, he knew that Mama, Hazel and I also enjoyed getting all dressed up and coming to see the performances.
After a few moments, the lights dimmed signaling the start of the…
