She watched as his headlights flooded the driveway and many minutes after his car was gone. Mr. ” “I said I was all right. “I am sorry. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one. ‘You put that thing away now, missie. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair.
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