“What are these people thinking?” Lightfoot wailed. He had now grasped his hair with both hands, as if about to tear it out in despair, although I noticed that he wasn’t really gripping it hard enough to muss it up, much less yank any out.

I’d seen him carry on like this last night, at the rehearsal, when one of the soloists had made some mistake undetectable to me. He’d berated the poor girl for a good five minutes, and she’d been visibly on the verge of tears. Afterward, when I was dropping off Aida’s daughter Kayla I asked her if this was typical.

“Yeah,” she’d said. “Especially on the eve of a concert. The worse his nerves get, the more he takes it out on us. I was up for that solo, you know. Really bummed me out when I didn’t get it. But maybe losing it wasn’t so bad after all. At least I don’t get chewed out like that.”

And Lightfoot was no better today. Everyone was giving him a wide berth, murmuring polite little apologies as they went past.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” As Lightfoot said this he glared at the people surrounding him. Clearly, since no one jumped to his side offering assistance, everyone assumed this was a rhetorical question. Lightfoot snorted with impatience and strode toward the archway where I was standing.

Given how dim the hall was compared to the brightly lit vestibule, perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault that he slammed into me, knocking me into the wall with a thud. But he could have been more polite about it.

“Watch it!” he said, as if I were the one who’d done something wrong.

The lack of sleep combined with the shooting pains through my shoulder did me in and I lost my temper.

“‘Watch it’?” I snapped. “You practically knock me down and all you say is ‘watch it’? Where the hell did you learn your manners—a stable?”

“Well, why were you standing there blocking the hallway?” he shouted.

“I wasn’t blocking the hallway,” I snapped. “I was just standing in it. If you weren’t so hell-bent on making sure everyone saw your little temper tantrum, maybe you’d have seen me.”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step toward me, fists clenched. Out in the vestibule, I heard several people gasp, and I found myself wondering if he’d ever been physically abusive to any of the choir members. I remembered how some of the younger ones almost flinched when he came near them.