The Cello Maker

Short Story by David P Andersen

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Snow swirled on the slippery streets of Boston.  It carved ringlets into the ice glaze here or settled in dune-like waves there.  Cold and dark, it was a time to stay within the warmth and light of home.  One of the lights shining that night emanated from the second-story window above Herb’s Hardware.  For within this room dwelled a man who loved his work.  This was the workshop of Ernesto Stefenetti, cello maker.

Along a windowed wall, seated at a central bench, a graying head moved back and forth in tempo with the working of the wood, slowly drawing forth a shape with an exactness learned over time.  The surfaces of his hands were stained and worn, too, as if a part of the workbench.  His flannel shirt was faded and patched at the elbows, his leather apron wrinkled and cracked, his thick-soled shoes spotted and scuffed.

The soft spruce of the front plate yielded to his hands; even the scroll took form with ease.  But the hard maple back that had to be carved across the grain was increasingly difficult.  When he was young, he could reduce a maple blank to an arched shell in a day.  But now, well into his seventies, his hands tired easily.  Holding the tiny finger planes with the force required to recess the hardwood caused his knuckles to ache.

And so he felt relieved when the piece he was working finally rang clearly as he held it aloft, dangling it by the rim with his thumb and forefinger of his left hand and striking it in the center with the middle finger of his other hand.  The resonant note sounded the end of the arduous carving, and his hands could rest.

Standing, he wrung them, soothing the tired muscles while he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the varnish cabinet.  Only one hour remained before concert time.  He would have to hurry.  Norma Telerovka would be playing the Elgar cello concerto, and Ernesto Stefenetti—cello maker—would be there.  As he dressed he recalled how he had met Miss Telerovka many years ago.

She had walked into his shop carrying a cello that had a broken fingerboard.  Nearly in tears, she explained she needed the instrument repaired in time for a student recital the following afternoon.  She also revealed she had no money but promised to repay him later.