wish one of the sopranos could reach A#, but I can’t chance it. The organ has to take over all these high notes, using the flute stop. Same with the really low notes, except I’ll indicate the tuba stop.
I am getting very excited about this set of songs, and I hope the Deacon will agree to publish them. It’s not the popular item the spirituals will become, but surely college students will appreciate the revised score.
April 23, 2144 – Nobody came to the dining room today, or to the services. The dining room manager was very upset, pacing back and forth from the staff lounge to the kitchen most of the day. The Reverend Walters was looking very sad, too.
The show had to go on, of course. We played and sang as if the room were SRO. The choir decided to add an extra anthem to the second service, as if that might attract the locals. But nobody was seen anywhere near our property. I’ll ask my farmhand friend tomorrow if the New Christian Congregation is canceling orders for produce.
I sent the two spirituals we have been rehearsing to the Deacon today, via the electronic message system. I also made a recording to send in the next spacecraft. His encouragement has been very uplifting, of course, but we are always pleased at the reaction of our friends in the congregation. The Clarklians like these pieces above everything else.
I borrowed a little printer from the dining room manager to make a backup copy of the first Rachmaninoff piece, and I took it to the sanctuary after the second service to try it out. I always like to work from paper because I can make notations directly on the sheet and apply them when I return to my cabin.
The first piece is sounding better than I had imagined it would. I played each of the six parts in turn, just to make sure nobody had too much to sing, and then I played the accompaniment. Some notations for changes, of course, but so far a good effort.
Sarah Hope’s Jottings
March 28, 2142 – I went to the lawyer, Mr. Whipple, today, the visit I had been both dreading and wishing for.
“Well, Miss Hope,” he said, flashing a toothy smile and looking at me as if I were a very small child, “I talked to the people from the New Christian Congregation yesterday, and now I have the pleasure of your visit.”
“Yes,” I admitted. I wondered what the church had to do with it.
“Mrs. Aperson signed a very complete will and testament, and she has left you some property,” he continued.
“Yes,” I agreed. Actually, I was expecting to be the only beneficiary.
“There’s not much in this estate, you understand,” he went on. “Mrs. Aperson was over 100 when she died, and she outlived most of her assets.”
“Oh,” I said, widening my eyes.
He straightened his tie and picked up a heavy document.
“Here’s a copy of the will I made for you, but I will explain the gist of it now.”
I took the copy and continued to look at Mr. Whipple.
“Mrs. Aperson left you her house, its contents, and its grounds. There is a substantial mortgage on the place, and, I am sorry to say, you have inherited that, too.”
“No, no,” I said. “She was to leave me her house free and clear. She told me so when I went to work for her in 2111.”
Mr. Whipple nodded and said, “Yes, that may have been her intent in 2111. I know you were her companion for over thirty years, but those years exhausted her inheritance from Judge Aperson. She mortgaged the house to pay the taxes and the maintenance.”
“What maintenance?” I cried. “I did all the repairs, even the plumbing and the roofing.”
He waited until I had calmed down. Finally, he said, “I, of course, can’t know where the money went. I assisted with the three mortgages she took out on the house, one in 2116, another in 2229, and the third in 2237.”
“I see,” I said, not really seeing at all. I knew she had income to pay the taxes, the grocery bills, and the utilities. I had assembled all those bills for her review each month.
I am getting very excited about this set of songs, and I hope the Deacon will agree to publish them. It’s not the popular item the spirituals will become, but surely college students will appreciate the revised score.
April 23, 2144 – Nobody came to the dining room today, or to the services. The dining room manager was very upset, pacing back and forth from the staff lounge to the kitchen most of the day. The Reverend Walters was looking very sad, too.
The show had to go on, of course. We played and sang as if the room were SRO. The choir decided to add an extra anthem to the second service, as if that might attract the locals. But nobody was seen anywhere near our property. I’ll ask my farmhand friend tomorrow if the New Christian Congregation is canceling orders for produce.
I sent the two spirituals we have been rehearsing to the Deacon today, via the electronic message system. I also made a recording to send in the next spacecraft. His encouragement has been very uplifting, of course, but we are always pleased at the reaction of our friends in the congregation. The Clarklians like these pieces above everything else.
I borrowed a little printer from the dining room manager to make a backup copy of the first Rachmaninoff piece, and I took it to the sanctuary after the second service to try it out. I always like to work from paper because I can make notations directly on the sheet and apply them when I return to my cabin.
The first piece is sounding better than I had imagined it would. I played each of the six parts in turn, just to make sure nobody had too much to sing, and then I played the accompaniment. Some notations for changes, of course, but so far a good effort.
Sarah Hope’s Jottings
March 28, 2142 – I went to the lawyer, Mr. Whipple, today, the visit I had been both dreading and wishing for.
“Well, Miss Hope,” he said, flashing a toothy smile and looking at me as if I were a very small child, “I talked to the people from the New Christian Congregation yesterday, and now I have the pleasure of your visit.”
“Yes,” I admitted. I wondered what the church had to do with it.
“Mrs. Aperson signed a very complete will and testament, and she has left you some property,” he continued.
“Yes,” I agreed. Actually, I was expecting to be the only beneficiary.
“There’s not much in this estate, you understand,” he went on. “Mrs. Aperson was over 100 when she died, and she outlived most of her assets.”
“Oh,” I said, widening my eyes.
He straightened his tie and picked up a heavy document.
“Here’s a copy of the will I made for you, but I will explain the gist of it now.”
I took the copy and continued to look at Mr. Whipple.
“Mrs. Aperson left you her house, its contents, and its grounds. There is a substantial mortgage on the place, and, I am sorry to say, you have inherited that, too.”
“No, no,” I said. “She was to leave me her house free and clear. She told me so when I went to work for her in 2111.”
Mr. Whipple nodded and said, “Yes, that may have been her intent in 2111. I know you were her companion for over thirty years, but those years exhausted her inheritance from Judge Aperson. She mortgaged the house to pay the taxes and the maintenance.”
“What maintenance?” I cried. “I did all the repairs, even the plumbing and the roofing.”
He waited until I had calmed down. Finally, he said, “I, of course, can’t know where the money went. I assisted with the three mortgages she took out on the house, one in 2116, another in 2229, and the third in 2237.”
“I see,” I said, not really seeing at all. I knew she had income to pay the taxes, the grocery bills, and the utilities. I had assembled all those bills for her review each month.
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