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letting me have it.”
“There’s a lot of history in that ringand the wedding band that goes with it. It was made in
Paris in 1823 for my great-great-great-grandmotherwhose name was Jeanne. It came to America in
1920 with my grandmotherYvetteand it’s been sitting in a drawer since 1969when Annette
died. It’s good to see it back out in the light of day.”
I look at the ringand thinkHenry’s mom was wearing this when she died. I glance at Henry
who seems to be thinking the same thingand at Mr. DeTamblewho is eating his duck. “Tell me
about Annette” I ask Mr. DeTamble.
He puts down his fork and leans his elbows on the tableputs his hands against his forehead. He
peers at me from behind his hands. “WellI’m sure Henry must have told you something.”
“Yes. A little. I grew up listening to her records; my parents are fans of hers.”
Mr. DeTamble smiles. “Ah. Well thenyou know that Annette had the most marvelous voice...rich
and puresuch a voiceand such range...she could express her soul with that voicewhenever I
listened to her I felt my life meant more than mere biology... she could really hearshe
understood structure and she could analyze exactly what it was about a piece of music that had
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fhonourIknowmydutyandIshall
dischargeit