“Don’t stop,” he said. Leonie wriggled in his arms, and he put her on the floor, where she bum-shuffled toward the toy box.

Ruby put the violin under her chin and played “Twinkle, Twinkle” again. There was a sound coming from the baby, who was turned away from them as she piled up bricks in a stack. This kid was singing. A perfectly clear tone, in tune with the violin.

“Is she …”

“Yes,” said Gregor. “She sings all the time. It’s amazing.”

Leonie fell silent, as if she could sense them listening. She turned around. “Twinkle, twinkle?” she said, though it came out Tingle, tingle? Ruby began to play again.

This time she played Mozart’s variations on the same tune, Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman. Leonie picked up bricks and arranged them into piles, all the while humming along in tune. Constance looked like she’d zoned out again, her eyes having returned to the sea scene, but Gregor stood transfixed, watching Ruby. When she’d finished, he was full of questions: How long had she been playing? How much training had she had? What was her conservatoire like? Had she ever wanted to give up as a child?

“I used to play the piano but I gave it up when I was eleven,” said Gregor. “I thought I knew better, but I regret it now—exactly the way my parents told me I would. I wish I’d listened to them and kept on practicing.”

“Well,” said Ruby, “I wasn’t given the option, thankfully, or I might have given up too. I hated her for it at the time, but now I can see why she was so strict.”

“Your mother?”

“My … yes.” Gregor frowned at her, wanting her to explain the hesitation. She just smiled; it was too soon to go into all of that.

He said, “I’d love for Leonie to play. You say you started when you were three?”

She nodded. “My folks were pretty keen. They were a bit like you, gave up playing when they were young, always regretted the decision. You know, you could take it up again now, if you wanted to. I know a few good piano teachers.”

Gregor laughed, as if the notion were ridiculous.

“I’m serious.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “I was never very good anyway.”

“Your parents must have thought you were if they willing to pay for lessons.”

His face darkened, she thought, for a split second. “I suppose.”

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, by the way. It must have been a shock for you.”

“My mother?” he said, and for an instant she thought he looked angry. Then his face smoothed out into wide-eyed bafflement. “But how did you … oh yes, of course. Mrs. Stefanidis.” He rolled his eyes.

Ruby felt awkward, that she’d admitted she’d been discussing his business behind his back. She knew how he felt about gossip.

“I’m sorry …”