During the first two weeks of March, they flew to Atlanta three times for rehearsals with the Atlanta Symphony Chorus. They were in and out of the city the same day on each of those occasions, but when performance time rolled around, they had to stay in a hotel for three nights. The two performances were a breeze compared to the somewhat grueling recording sessions, but it was finally over and they flew home late on a Saturday evening.
“I don’t want to ever do anything like that again,” Noah said as he buckled his seat belt, “at least not anytime soon.”
“You’d better get used to it,” Tom said.
Noah was prevented from replying immediately as an announcement from the cockpit made it impossible to talk. “What did you mean by that?” he said finally.
“When that recording is released, and possibly even before it’s released, you’re going to get offers. Count on it.”
“What kind of offers?”