The red carpeting continued in the upper hall, leading to the porch door. The porch had been enclosed with sliding screens, which were open now so that Max and Michael and Or’ could watch the lake stained orange and pink in the reflection of the setting sun. Michael and Or’ were sitting in one corner drinking iced tea. Max came forward to greet me, leading me by the hand to a nearby chair, and pressing a drink on me. I took a gin and tonic and felt some of the stress leave my shoulders.

Like the rest of the house, the porch was immaculate and beautifully furnished. The deck chairs were made of dark, polished wood covered in thick, flowered cushions. The occasional tables, unlike the glass or cast iron of most porch furniture, were constructed of the same wood with bright tile inlays. Blooming plants in Chinese pots stood on ledges around the perimeter.

A break of dawn redwoods screened the porch from the house to the south; the front of the other house lay further back. Although shrieks from neighborhood children drifted up, we couldn’t see anyone.

Lotty arrived a few minutes later and the conversation turned to music, and Or’s and Michael’s summer schedules. Or’ was conducting at Tanglewood, he touring in the Far East. They would join up again in the fall for a tour in Eastern Europe, although both were worried by the anti-Semitic violence in that part of the world. Lotty seemed to have put her anger over Carol to one side, greeting me with a kiss and taking enthusiastic part in the conversation.

At seven-thirty I got up to go. They were moving on to a restaurant for dinner, but I’d had too long a day. I just wanted to get to bed.

Michael stood up with me. “We’re flying back to London tomorrow. I’ll go downstairs with you to say good-bye, Vic.”

I thanked Max for his hospitality. “Good-bye, Or’. Good to meet you—and to hear your music.”

The composer swung her arm in a farewell, as if signaling an orchestra. She didn’t move from her chair. As Michael shut the screen door to the hall behind him I heard her commenting on the Cellini Quintet, which Max and Lotty knew well.

Michael held the door to the Trans Am for me. I shook his hand through the open window.

“Have a safe journey to London. I hope you didn’t mind playing for those musical cretins last week?”