Helen picked up the key, which she had located on another end table. I pretended to be preoccupied with an article in a magazine my father had left in the room. We didn’t leave quite yet.

“I know you did, Mom,” said my brother.

“Freddy, each of us loves in his own way,” my mother’s voice filtered through the closed door. “You give to people what you have to give. You can’t give them what you don’t have. And you gave Melanie everything you had to give. Maybe what you had wasn’t right for her, and she needed something else. And maybe you needed to feel loved in a way she wasn’t capable of, or that she wasn’t capable of sustaining, anyway. Somewhere out there is a girl who wants just exactly what you have to give, and who will give you everything you need. There’s someone out there whom you’ll make happier than she ever imagined she could be. You’ll make each other that happy. Remember what your grandmother used to say? ‘For every pot, there’s a lid.’ The right person is out there, Freddy, but it takes time.” There was a pause, then my mother’s voice again. “Freddy. You are loving, and kind, and loyal, and very few people have that. It’s . . .” Her voice drifted off. “It’s the best thing there is, just to be the kind of person you are. Be patient for a little while, and try not to be too sad now. I know it’s hard, but it’s important, too, not to be so sad you miss the other things and the other people life has to offer you.”

“I’ll try,” said Freddy.

My mother’s voice suddenly rose sharply. “And would you please also try not to destroy that notepad?” she said. “I’m sure there are notepads in your room. I’d like to have that one so that I can write down a phone number if I need to. We are no longer seven years old, Freddy.”

Helen and I walked quietly out of the suite and back down to our room.

• • •

The day after we arrived in Paris, I went out with Helen and Freddy for a long walk. We had ice cream at Helen’s favorite place, and we strolled past Notre-Dame. I had bitten my lower lip and had an irritating cut inside my mouth, which the ice cream inflamed. On the Île Saint-Louis we passed a shop selling amusing socks (Helen vetoed the ones with cherubs on them as too amusing), and I bought three pair for myself and one for Bernard. Then I decided that I was really not feeling my best, and I left Helen and Freddy and headed back to the hotel. I was trying to decide when I would tell everyone about the recording contract, and I was playing the Schubert over and over again in my mind. I wanted to find all the sensation there could ever be in B-flat.