Nor did she fall asleep during the two hours of chamber music of the Juillard Quartet. She was too excited. Karl sat next to her, his fists under his chin, his body thrust forward, his eyes glued to the players. An occasional smile and a well-directed poke from his elbow helped her to listen.
During intermission she told Karl she liked Bartok better, hearing the music a second time. “And I love seeing the red and gold opera house again. But,” she added laughing, “the music can’t compare with the thrilling play I dreamed up about Baby Doe and Horace Tabor when you woke me up.”
After the concert, the Luries decided to prolong the evening’s pleasure. They would go to Smuggler’s Café for refreshments and talk. Uncle Yahn excused himself, “No night life for me.” But Lynne and Allen joined the party and Judy’s cup of delight was full. They too would meet Karl.
Candles dimly lit the room. A boy played the guitar and sang. When he left off strumming and singing, someone started the jukebox. Wonderful, exciting jazz! Allen and Karl were discussing the merits of their instruments, where they were bought, how many thousands of dollars it took to own a really good violin or viola—Lynne was talking camp—Judy was filled with a vast content and smiled at everyone.
The sputtering candles in the dimly lit room, the singing and guitar, the jazz still throbbing, waiters hurrying by with ice cream floats dizzily topped with whipped cream—Lynne and Allen, her parents, gay and carefree—above all, Karl! This was Aspen life! At last she was part of it!
9
A SMALL TRIUMPH
Judy’s days seemed to speed on wings. Since she had joined the camp staff, she was given a wider scope for her talents as Lynne recognized her interest in stories and her flair for translating them into dramatic episodes.
All camp activities now centered upon the coming exhibition for Parents’ Day. Old sketches were reworked. A new one, its selection and production left in Judy’s hands, was now in rehearsal. Examples of the varied arts and crafts ornamented the walls of the shed. Judy made a lively poster of a boy and girl dripping rainbow-hued paint from their attenuated fingers pointing to the words, “See What We Made.” The repertory of songs and dances was played endlessly on the wheezing victrola and rehearsed with zest. Allen came as frequently as possible to coach his diminutive baseball team and then stayed to hammer away, improvising props and sets. It was work but lots of fun, and the children were eager to stay an extra hour to perfect their show.
Yet there was hardly a day that Judy didn’t see Karl. After the children were driven to their homes, the camp bus dropped her at the Swiss Shop. The hour, sometimes two, spent with Karl cemented what was now a close, a tender friendship. They recommended their favorite reading to each other and exchanged books. Sometimes they argued about world affairs, about which neither was too well informed; or religion, a subject that Judy suddenly discovered as being important. Karl knew someone in the Israeli Symphony Orchestra and there was much talk and speculation about that little country. Judy found Karl’s ardor and interest in Israel contagious, and the remembered discussions in her grandparents’ home took on new meaning.
Judy was happy, unspeakably happy, until for four days her well-timed visits to the Swiss Shop had been fruitless! Karl was nowhere in evidence. She was surprised and hurt, but too proud to mention anything to Lynne. Like the heroines in her literary world, she put aside her personal grief and rehearsed her little troupe with fanatical zeal. The words frequently heard in her home, “The show must go on,” were frequently in her thoughts.