othing particular against the viola, as an instrument.
Frankly speaking, I've known a couple of violists pretty
intimately--and I've always found violists to be warm and tender
people. Much less high-strung, so to speak, than violinists. Not
quite as passionate as cellists. But I would hardly have considered
the viola to be a prestigious solo instrument. How many famous
violists can you name? How many great viola concertos? "The
repertoire is too limited," I said, speaking what was on my mind. This
fact did not deter her determination.

"Mr. Rossi thinks I'd make a great violist," she replied. There was
that look again, right in her light brown eyes. Just like her mother.

I had a sudden insight: my teenage daughter had a crush on the
conductor. He needed a violist, and apparently he was astute enough to
take advantage of a young girl's infatuation to get one. Maybe I'd
have a word about cradle robbing with Mr. Rossi. Well, no that was a
bit much, I decided. Jenny would have given me the silent treatment
for a week. I'd have to stay calm. I told her to think about it for a
while, and after a couple weeks, if she still wanted to descend to
being a violist, we'd see.

Half an hour later, while I did the dishes, she was on the phone to
someone, and jabbered away for a couple of hours to her friends while
she dragged the phone all over the living room. I decided again I'd
have to join the modern age and get a cordless phone. She probably was
about ready for her own private line. I thought maybe I ought to make
her pay for it, too.

Jenny worked her way up to first desk within a year of taking up her
beloved viola, and despite myself I was beginning to be slightly proud
of her. She really was in higher demand, and was constantly so
involved with chamber ensembles, youth symphony, flitting here and
there, that a lot of her schoolwork was suffering noticeably. Her
grade-point average dropped until she was barely maintaining a "B". We
had a little talk about that, and decided mutually (or at least I like
to think it was mutual) that she needed to pull it up, or I'd pull the
plug on all her extra-curricular activities.

So there I was, three years later, pacing the lobby, waiting. I heard
applause in the auditorium, so I snuck in the door. The hall was
packed solid. At least it seemed packed solid for a moment. I found a
pretty lousy seat near the back and plopped myself down while I looked
around