The lights over the grand theatre dimmed, a subtle indicator for the seated audience to hush. From beyond the grand drapes, she heard the orchestra warming up in the pit in front of the stage. Standing just behind the deep red curtains, she laid one hand delicately on top of the other, letting them rest against the front of her blue satin gown.
The notes of the stringed instruments grew more and more harmonious. When she heard them at last weave together perfectly, she knew it was time. She lifted her head, letting her rich chestnut hair fall in gentle curls over her shoulder.
The crack in the velvety curtains suddenly split wide, sliding towards either side of the stage to reveal its lone occupant. A wide beam of light focused on her and brightened the dimness of the grand space.
She saw them through the darkness—thousands of eyes that had come to gaze upon the one and only Celestina Amonte, their ears ready to drink in her dulcet voice. It was a performance they had come for dressed in their very best, surrounded by the luxury of the opera house's stunning architecture.
The orchestra began the first piece of the night. The sweet, soft notes were soon accompanied by the melody of her song. It was a voice that mesmerized all who heard it. Perfection, her critics had praised. A voice of pure gold. They called her La Contessa dell'Opera. And anyone who considered themselves a connoisseur of fine art knew of La Contessa.
Her first performance of the night ended with extravagant applause. At the end of her second, Celestina left the stage for the intermission and the lights lit up over the seats. She returned to her dressing room in the back. There, a stagehand had left a glass of water for her. She sat at the vanity, spending the next few minutes of the intermission letting her throat rest. Celestina gazed at the reflection of the pretty young woman in the vanity mirror as she sipped her water. A hand drifted up and ran along the shimmery pearl necklace around her neck. Then, towards the end of the 15 minutes, she was called back out.
She stepped onto the stage. The lights dimmed, and one focused on her. There, she entranced the audience with a third song and was awarded with an equally lavish applause. At the eve of her fourth and final performance, a grand piano was brought out onto the stage. The orchestra pit emptied. Soon, it was only La Contessa as she played an elegant melody from the ivory keys. She had saved the best for last, and the audience aired its awe in a standing ovation at the conclusion.
Celestina stood from the piano stool and stepped downstage. There, she bowed, letting her hair fall in billowing curtains down the sides of her face. She rose with a bright smile, watching the sea of admiration before her. It had been another wonderful night.
They were leaving their seats now, taking the coats that had draped over their chairs to help weather the chilly journey home. Celestina had left the stage, heading back to her dressing room to fetch her own fur wrap coat. Something was waiting for her when she stepped in. Vibrant, crimson petals were in full bloom. The leafy stems, trimmed of their thorns, were wrapped in delicate white paper secured with a gold ribbon. But unlike the other bouquets Celestina had received from her admirers, there was no card amidst the roses—no identification of any sort of whom the sender was.
Celestina stepped out into the doorway of her dressing room until a stagehand passed by. When one did, she called the girl over and asked about the roses. "I think Natalie put them in there," the stagehand answered. "Let me go get her." She hurried away. Shortly after, the girl returned with the stage manager.
"Ah, Miss Amonte! The roses, was it?" A sly smile curled Natalie's lips. "It seems you've a secret admirer. A man came around to the back right after your third performance and told me to make sure you got those. Wouldn't give me a name."
"Strange," Celestina remarked. "They usually always want me to know who they are. What did he look like?"
"I'm sorry—I can't really remember. I was in a hurry making sure the piano arrived to the stage on time, and he left rather quickly… probably to catch your last song. But before he left, he did asked me about your next performance," Natalie replied. "You might get a chance to meet him after all."