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in New York for a couple of days and see you at your place, Nina. Our house hasn’t been touched since Bobby and Tim moved out, and I’d love to do over the downstairs, at least.”
    “Oh, fabulous! I’d love to bring in some business of my own. I’ll give you my card.”
    Gilbert owned a heating and air-conditioning business; the Ferrises were prosperous. They took an almost childish pleasure in what Adam called their “adult toys”: Louise’s fur coats and Gil’s Jaguar.
Overstuffed
was the adjective that he applied to them, and Margaret knew that he only tolerated them for her sake. It was too bad, yet she understood that they were intellectually no match for Adam. Yet they were such good people, so generous and loving! Gil, although not old enough to be her father, had been the nearest to a father that she had ever known.…
    “You men are very rude to leave us alone in here,” Nina called. “Come on out. You’ve had enough time with that electronic stuff.”
    Fred came in chuckling. “If Adam were speaking Chinese, I’d understand him about as well. Semiconductors, disk drivers—all I know are bricks, cement, and two-by-fours. I guess I’d better stick to the building business. Although seriously, I’ve got to educate myself. We’re in a new age, the age of Adam.”
    Adam, visibly pleased, now turned his attentiontoward Julie. “Do we get our after-dinner music tonight, Mrs. Chopin?”
    The name, which was a family joke, caused Julie to blush with a touch of embarrassment and a deal of pride. Margaret thought of all the theories about the difficulties of the middle child; as far as anyone could see, Julie had no particular difficulties. Perhaps it was because she had her talent.
    “What shall it be?” Adam urged. “The new Erik Satie?”
    Julie nodded. “I haven’t got it perfectly yet. My teacher only gave it to me two weeks ago. But I’ll try it. It’s a waltz,” she explained to the assembled group as if she were instructing them. “It’s called ‘Chocolate-Covered Almonds.’ ”
    “A show tune?” asked Louise. “I never heard of it.”
    “It’s a very old piece,” Julie said solemnly. “He’s a French composer.”
    It was tranquil music, evening music, summer sounds for lamplight and leaves rustling at the open window. From where she sat, Margaret could see her daughter’s profile as she swayed in harmony with the mood of the waltz.
    Her gaze traveled around the circle, where no one moved. Even Danny sat quite still, probably not because he was enjoying himself—at eight he vastly preferred baseball—but out of respect for his father, for whom music was a serious part of life. Those two were as connected as a hand to the arm, she thought, as she studied the boy’s round cheeks, short nose, and jaunty curls, all so like her own. Her gaze then rested upon Megan, who at twelve was already browsing throughpopular medical books at the library. Maybe she would be the one to do it.…
    Nina was smiling. She had rested her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes, yet even in such repose she seemed to sparkle. Her heavy chestnut hair was piled high above her small, piquant face; her rather large, sensuous mouth was glossed with the same red-brown lipstick that she had been wearing since, at fifteen, she had used up her allowance to get a professional makeup.
    “What a handful!” Mom used to sigh. And Mom had not even lived to see Nina as a grown girl. She had known her only as the mischievous child who liked to scare them by pretending to run away and then, an hour later, popping out of the neighbor’s garage to laugh at them. It had taken more than a little patience to rear Nina!
    But it had been worth the effort to watch the unfolding of her imagination, with its recklessness and generosity. There was the time she had given her little savings to a poor girl in her class. There was the time she had bought a reproduction, expensively framed, of Manet’s