“Of course we can do without him, Jack, he’s probably our worst player.” I added with concern, “But maybe this is not the time or place to deal with it.”

Jack smiled blandly. “Poor Ray, always so concerned for me. You misunderstand. Dave wants to visit his ailing father in San Diego this weekend. It’s Dave’s last chance before we head to Seattle. He’d miss Friday and Saturday. Do I need to hire a sub?”

I told Jack that in our book, the baritone sax and the fourth trombone were the most expendable. I asked if there would be any critics reviewing us. Jack said that both the Tribune and the Chronicle were saving their serious ink for the bands at Sweet’s Ballroom and, of course, the major venues in San Francisco. I told Jack to save himself the money, that I’d cover on the tenor any solo lines Dave played. I’d written very few for him.

“Thanks,” he said, relieved. “It’s getting so expensive to tour. Every nickel and dime makes a difference. An orchestra used to be three trumpets, one trombone, four reeds, and rhythm.”

“Don’t forget the xylophone,” I said.

“Ah yes, can’t do without a xylophone, can we?” He looked around the room. “Your young lady from the other night, I haven’t seen her again, have I?”

I explained that she’d been busy rehearsing as an accompanist at a Berkeley recital.

Jack looked concerned. “Oh, she’s a musician herself, is she?” He turned to summon a waiter.

“Yes, an excellent classical pianist as well as a composer.” Something about Jack’s comments regarding “nickels and dimes” was troubling me, but I had no idea why.

“Gail’s quite a performer.”

“A performer. Ah. Well. Best of luck to you,” he said, turning away from the sight of Dave stroking his hand along the nape of Vera’s neck. “Best of luck to you indeed.”

Chapter 36

36

Trio Non con Brio

The café was much busier at lunch than when I’d breakfasted there. After moping and mooning about the Claremont grounds for the last few days (the liveliest alternative being canasta in the Bamboo Room with Jack and some of the hotel guests), I found it pleasant to be part of a keyed-up crowd. The Café Lafayette was a bit pricey for the family set, and the chatter around us was smart and merry.

I’d arranged to meet Nancy fifteen minutes before Gail arrived, giving me more than enough time to tell Nancy about my Swing commission and the female student who’d employed me.

Nancy punctuated my account with the occasional judicious “of course” and “certainly” and “naturally” and wore a serious expression on her face with a certain set to the corner of her mouth that let me know she was trying not to smile at my earnest explanation.