But if there is a God, would he not speak in a language that all could understand? One that moved you on a level deeper than words could? Would he not sound, I think, just like Cali’s cello? She moves on from the Brahms to Mozart, then Beethoven. She tells us this later; as she plays, she simply floats from one piece to the next, with only a deep breath and a pause to delineate the pieces. At last, she stops, spent. She looks up at us, as though only now remembering that we’re in the room. I can’t tell if the expression on her face is grief or joy. She excuses herself, setting the cello gingerly against the chair. She disappears into the courtyard. Edward suddenly doesn’t look so sure of himself.

“I’ll go,” I say.

Cali is sitting by the pool with one leg hugged to her chest and the other dangling into the water. I fear she’ll be upset, but as I settle myself down next to her, pulling up the edge of my skirt and letting my own calves slide into the cool water, her face looks serene, even happy. For a moment, we sit together in companionable silence.

“I’ve always loved the cello, you know,” she begins, “but after New York, I started to worry that I was getting jaded, that it had become about what it meant to my identity rather than the music itself, about being part of the Philharmonic, about being a principal. Not about the music.”

“And now?”

She turns to face me. She’s smiling, but her eyes are sad.

“Now I know it wasn’t just the status, the job, the dream. It was always the music. Always me and my cello.”

“Then you have to go back,” I say. As I say this, I am thinking of the mountain. Certainly, I too had become wrapped up in the glory, the pursuit of crystal globes and gold medals, sponsorships and deal making. But in the end, it was always me and the mountain. My first and truest love. What if it didn’t all have to be over? As Blair said, there was always going to be an after.

“Yeah,” Cali says. “Maybe I’ll go find some little orchestra in Texas or something, move back home. I could always teach.”

“No. Just because it’s not about the glory doesn’t mean you have to give up the glory. Hearing you play tonight . . .” Words escape me for a moment. “I’ve never heard anything like it. I was so moved.”

“Thank you.”