She had already talked to Michelle's manager because of her unexpected stubbornness, but her intervention hadn't helped either. So they had generally prepared themselves to carry out the project on their own. Given the situation, Adolé was not at all dissatisfied. After all, at least it still meant that she could do what she wanted
and did not have to deal with the pianist and her probably controversial opinion. At least that!
And so the originally jointly planned project went ahead, albeit moderately, but somehow satisfactorily under these adverse circumstances.
Roswitha only had one last idea to ease the generally difficult relationship between the two musicians, including the studio team. So on a Saturday evening, she invited everyone to a joint dinner in a hip Hamburg restaurant.
She hoped that everyone involved in the project would meet under neutral circumstances and perhaps get to know each other in a new and more relaxed way. This would possibly give new impulses, not only for the development of the music in the project. Especially for the poisoned relationship between the two main protagonists, this was to be a final attempt at debate. Convincing Adolé to participate was, as always, not difficult, as she was never averse to a good meal. Ella, however, had had to use all her powers of persuasion and appeasement to convince Mrs Mimieux to go to the restaurant that evening and behave in a reasonably respectable manner.
And so Adolé suddenly and unexpectedly found himself in an industrially influenced loft restaurant with Jewish cuisine near the port of Hamburg. The restaurant was innovative and new, its interior characterized by the cool industrial accessories. Despite the many raw-metal furnishings, it was at the same time cosy and soft in appearance. This was ensured by the sweeping carpets and the many cosy and tasteful cushions and couches. The graceful lighting did the rest. This very relaxed atmosphere was supported by soft jazz music.
Adolé had no hopes of a reasonable contact or even a nice evening with the pianist and therefore limited herself to high expectations of what she knew to be excellent food. She loved Israeli cuisine and was happy even on bad days with a little good humus and fresh flat bread.
A rich selection of starters already filled the large and somewhat remote table in the restaurant when Michelle Mimieux finally joined the group of musicians and the two managers. As usual, she hardly said a word of welcome, nodded briefly to the group and then sat down on the only free chair not far from Adolé. Even now she wore her opaque sunglasses and only with a skillful movement she smoothly got rid of her coat.
When the waiter asked her what she wanted to drink, she answered as usual monosyllabically: "Chardonnay!" No "please", no complete sentence, just a clear instruction. Adolé was once again stunned by so much unkindness.
She immediately turned to the bright side. "Well, she has a good taste in wine. After all. " thought Adolé, who hadn't expected to see the Frenchwoman so close and detailed for so long. Even now her facial expressions were impenetrable, her gaze lowered, but Adolé at least thought it was to her advantage that she took part in this reconciliation dinner.
Adolé enjoyed the variety of the starters, the ingenuity of the arrangement and the excellent Argentinean Chardonnay, which she had also ordered. She liked the multidimensional taste of sun-ripened Chardonnays, preferably when it was not from France. Countries with more hours of sunshine, such as Australia, Chile or even South Africa, produced in her eyes meanwhile great, competitive wines, to which she was never averse.
While she ate a bite here and there and listened to the atmospheric music, she let her gaze wander from time to time furtively in the direction of the bulky French woman. Under no circumstances did she want to look conspicuously over to her or even speak to her, since the fronts between them had apparently been settled to a certain extent satisfactorily for both sides. Moreover, she was of the opinion that the next step had to come from her - in her eyes Adolé had done everything for a peaceful and creative coexistence. Her patience and patience were not infinite. Should the arrogant pianist now enjoy this truce and the peace that went with it, and should she now perhaps even be able to imagine an approach, she would have to jump over her own shadow and venture a step forward on her part.
More often than she was willing to admit, Adolé secretly risked a look out of the corner of her eye at the piano player sitting diagonally opposite her, while here and there she had an emphatically casual and informal conversation. To her own astonishment, she suddenly and unexpectedly noticed that the unsympathetic Frenchwoman exerted a certain attraction on her, even a strange attraction. Adolé was shocked by this realization that this unsympathetic, egocentric and immature woman had such an effect on her.
She turned her gaze away in indignation and concentrated again fully on the conversation that she had started with the studio drummer some time ago - the focus was on the advantages and disadvantages of today's computer-aided composition possibilities. Basically, composing had become extremely easy thanks to a wide variety of programs and was therefore open to everyone. In the end, there was much more competition today, since it was not even necessary to master a "real" instrument.
Adolé liked the musician and the relaxed course of the conversation with him. Usually men were suspicious to her from time to time, but at least she usually felt uncomfortable in their company. This drummer, however, whom she had known for several years, was a notable exception.
She was about to answer a question he had asked her when she noticed a vibration in her trouser pocket. With a quick apology, she fiddled around in her pocket and immediately fished out her cell phone, which showed a Whats App message from an unknown number.
She read the message, paused and held her breath: "Can we talk for a moment? I'm out on the terrace. Michelle".
"How in the world did she get my secret mobile number???!!!", Adolé secretly rebelled. At the same moment, however, it was already clear to her that only Roswitha and Ella could have any real interest in her two protégés finally finding a reasonable basis for their joint work. After all, this project should be a step forward for each of them. Her astonishment at this unusual approach outweighed the fact that she hadn't noticed that the pianist had moved away from their shared table at all.
Adolé slowly started to move. That she could not tolerate the disclosure of her confidential cell phone number even under these circumstances would be discussed with Roswitha personally at the appropriate time. She apologized to her interlocutor and asked to be able to continue the conversation in a few minutes. With a smile for the drummer, she left the table, turned around and walked along the corridor towards the terrace.
On the way there, she feverishly thought about what the Frenchwoman could already have back now. After all, this is how she quoted her out of the dinner party and back to herself in this remote place. "Actually I am not her errand boy. Let her come to me if she wants something!" it flashed through her mind.
Arriving on the terrace, she stopped for a moment, wondering whether she wanted to do so at all. She hesitated further because she was not sure whether she even wanted to have another crude conversation with her unconventional music colleague in this situation, which was originally intended to relax the entire team. What the hell was it that drove her to so abruptly divert this beautiful evening from its intended purpose? And what could she possibly want that she couldn't discuss with her the next day in the studio?
But curiosity prevailed. Despite all doubt, Adolé took a deep breath of the dark night air and looked around searching, found a sign saying "Relaxation Area" and an arrow to that effect, and slowly continued in that direction.
The roof terrace was deserted and only indirectly illuminated. A few scattered palms radiated a Mediterranean flair that she liked very much. They moved quietly in the light spring wind. After a few steps she saw Michelle Mimieux in the far back corner, who had turned her back and looked at the view. The nightly Hamburg lay at her feet.
"That's typical again," thought Adolé resignedly, "instead of greeting me properly," but despite all the negative expectations, he went resolutely and prepared for everything in the direction of the pianist. When she reached Michelle, she also leaned wordlessly against the balustrade and silently looked out at the dark port city. The weak spring wind played around her, hardly noticeable but nevertheless pleasant. Sounds of the street came up to them, a soft honking in the distance, a hearty laugh, a few cars moving away, but all this was dominated by the soft rustling of the palm trees on the terrace.
"Thank you for coming," Michelle opened the conversation quietly, without turning her eyes away from the view. "Not at all," replied Adolé, also in a subdued voice. "What can I do for you?"
Michelle turned around, turned to her directly and looked deep into her eyes for a moment. Adolé became inexplicably hot and cold. She reached for the balustrade in order not to lose her balance. She felt her heart beating up to her neck. Adolé himself was astonished. She had not expected this violent reaction to the unsympathetic pianist - it could not be understood either.
As if she had noticed Adolé's inner confusion, the Frenchwoman turned away and looked down at the ground with concern. In her inimitable manner, she then began to search for words. With her unmistakably typical French accent she began to stutter helplessly around. "I would like to apologize. Our start was not a good one, I never wanted this project. It doesn't make sense to m
e either."
Again Adolé looked directly into Michelle's blue eyes, this time shorter and therefore less captious. Nevertheless, the attraction hit her so hard that she had to gasp for breath. What was that?! And what was that all about?! She got hot. After a few moments of reflection she answered in a calm voice, also looking down to the ground: "Yes, I feel the same. But my management does not tolerate any contradiction. And I trust Roswitha. She knows what she is doing. It was her idea. Maybe she is right and our strange interaction is a real chance - at least there has never been anything like it before..."
Michelle remained silent, but was obviously impressed by such a reflected and reasonable answer. Adolé's rational way of dealing with things was not at all in keeping with her own approach, but made sense in every respect. After a short period of reflection, she turned around and left the terrace without a further remark.