Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(80)
A part of Dimitri agreed with Mr. Antonovich. The peaceful rhythm of life in this valley was a balm to his soul. He had everything he wanted or needed right here.
But within an hour, he had drafted a message to Baron Freedericksz, insisting on an audience with Czar Nicholas, because until he had an official recommitment to the 1858 treaty, he could never rest easy.
30
The best remedy for a broken heart was a daunting task, and Natalia found that challenge in learning all aspects of the budding music industry. The creation and distribution of records required equal parts musical insight and business acumen, along with a dash of chemistry, physics, and engineering.
She began educating herself in Jersey City, where the record factory looked more like a chemistry lab than a place that could mass-produce records. Henry Weisbaum was the production manager. The wiry man wore grease-stained coveralls, but he had the vocabulary of a physics professor as he explained how master copies of musical recordings were made. Sound caused vibrations to oscillate a stylus as it traveled across a waxy disc, cutting minuscule grooves in the surface. An acid bath fixed the grooves, allowing it to serve as a master copy from which additional records could be produced.
“This is aluminum oleate,” Henry said as he pried the lid from a steel drum to show her the brown, jelly-like material. “Up until a year ago, we used it to coat our master discs before the recording, but lately we’ve been experimenting with a blend of montan wax and petroleum jelly. The musicians hate it, because we’ve got to keep the recording studio hot so the wax stays pliable, but the results sound better. We’ve got a team of chemists working on a modified version that will be soft enough to work at room temperature.”
Henry kept filling her arms with discs as they toured the production floor. “This one was made with the electroplating technique,” or “this one is the old stamp technique. It’s cheaper but sounds a little tinny in the higher registers.”
By the time Natalia finished her tour, she had ten sample recordings, each manufactured with slightly different techniques. She would listen to them all and then decide which sort of process would be best for Tachenko’s recording. All the samples were of a soprano singing the same opera song to make the comparison easier.
Normally Natalia disliked opera, but not anymore! Now she felt like a scientist as she studied the recordings, listening for variations caused by the different chemicals and recording techniques.
She wanted additional opinions and took the records to the Black Rose, where she played the records for Liam and Darla.
Liam didn’t like opera either. “You owe me a gourmet dinner for making me listen to that soprano bellow.”
“Her name is Adelina Patti, and she is a very famous singer,” Darla said. “I think it’s marvelous that she’s lending her talent to help advance the industry.”
“She sounds like she’s being tortured on the rack,” Liam replied.
Natalia put on another record to listen to the same song recorded using a different blend of wax. “Close your eyes and tell me if this one has better sound quality.”
Despite his disdain for opera, Liam dropped his pained expression and settled down to listen, closing his eyes in concentration as the different recordings filled the room with music.
“I don’t mind a little of that background noise so long as the sound is good,” he said. “What did you call that noise?”
“Clutter,” Natalia replied. “That’s what the production manager calls it, and it’s going to be a challenge to get rid of it.” Some of the discs had no clutter but sounded tinny. Others were perfect, but the music sounded as if it came from very far away. “My hunch is that it won’t be so noticeable when an entire orchestra is playing a song instead of just a solo performer.”
“Let’s have the next one,” Darla said, and Natalia swapped out the electroplated disc for one made with the new wax blend.
Once again, Liam settled in to listen with total concentration as he closed his eyes and turned his ear to the music, but this time he clasped Darla’s hand. The way he traced his thumb across the back of her hand was sweet. They seemed such opposites: Liam a big tough man and Darla refined and smart as a whip, but they seemed to fit.
It made Natalia feel like a third wheel. Was there anything worse for a lonely person than to be lumped in with a happy couple? This time when the needle came to the end of the recording, the disc kept rotating, and the needle made a staticky clicking sound over and over. Neither Liam nor Darla noticed; they just kept staring at Liam’s thumb tracing a pattern on the back of Darla’s hand.
Natalia rose and lifted the needle. “I should head home.”
Liam snapped back to attention. “Did you get what you needed?”
Mostly. She already knew which technique could make the most of Tachenko’s talents. What she really wanted tonight was human companionship. She’d found it but somehow felt lonelier than ever.
It was late before Natalia arrived back home to begin preparing dinner in her newly remodeled kitchen. When she first bought this modest townhouse, she wanted to prove herself superior to Poppy by living humbly and doing everything herself. Even after the plumbing disaster, she tried to repair everything on her own to prove her independence to Poppy.
It had been nothing more than immature pride. She didn’t need to prove herself against Poppy. Natalia paid a plumber to add a hot water heater and additional lines so that she now had decent plumbing throughout the house. The charming woodland mantelpiece had been repaired with a series of tiny screws that were almost invisible. The house smelled like new plaster and fresh paint, and the water no longer gurgled in failing pipes.