I introduced myself and told him I now played for the Jack Donovan Orchestra. “That’s a swing band,” I explained. “And I arrange for the band as well. Some of my orchestrations have been recorded.”

He patted my right shoulder in a fatherly way. “We all have to put bread on the table,” he consoled me.

Haffner was the sort of composer you hired for the opening of a museum or a city centennial. The piece would admirably fill the bill, be loud and majestic, conclude to very respectful applause, and never be heard again. His work was as sound and astute as his teachings on musical theory. Unfortunately, sound and astute is rarely what drives an audience into a frenzy.

He turned to Gilbert. “How are you today, my little sunbeam?”

“Fine, Professor,” replied Gilbert.

I asked Haffner, “So is RC doing some copying for you, Professor? A new work?”

He gave me an angled nod. “I am working with RC, yes.” He whispered to me, even though everyone around us knew the secret, “In truth, I am working for them. As a copyist.”

I must have displayed more pity than I meant to, because he rushed to assure me, “No, it will only be for a short while longer. I will get a commission soon, I am very sure. A few years after you were my student, I went back to Germany. We were hoping to rebuild not just the country but its music as well. But it became clear to me last summer that I had to get out. I have family in Walnut Creek, so I have been here a month or so.”

Stupidly, my hand moved toward my wallet. “I’d be very grateful if you would allow me to advance you a small loan—”

He glared, deeply offended. “If I would accept charity, do you think I would be working here? You think my family has no money to give me? Now: What do you have for me here?”

Could I really have him copy my work? “I don’t know, Professor, I feel—”

“Come! Better you than a stranger.” He turned to the man behind the counter. “If I don’t do this one, what do you have for me?”

Gilbert looked at a stack of much-handled score paper. “Rearrangement of a stage chart so it can be played by any instrumentation from solo piano to pit orchestra.”

Haffner shuddered and looked at me. “That is my version of heavy labor. Let’s look at yours, please.”

Gilbert shoved Gail’s score over toward Haffner. “He’s from out of town,” he warned. “We’ll want payment before you start, so you’ll have to estimate in advance.”