Shutting doors, closing windows did not prevent the sound from infiltrating the rooms and offices of the institute, the campus buildings, and every store and house in Concordance. It blanketed the countryside for miles around. Joe and Jenny, young Bethy, little Teddy and his dog Cassandra came in the Bernstines’ car; Leslie and Eliza Shakespeare brought Ilka and her child. Joe put down a blanket for her on the grass. He wanted to be congratulated on discovering this green place in the embrace of a lush little wood. A range of hills separated them from the town. “From here you can barely hear it,” they said. Ilka sat with Maggie between her legs. Leslie unloaded bags, baskets, boxes, a bucket of ice, more blankets. Joe got the hibachi burning, Jenny unwrapped things and Eliza sliced them. “Leslie, the wine. You know the definition of wine cookery? You drink wine while you cook. Bethy and Teddy, juice? Maggie, an apple.” Ilka said, “Leslie, watch this.” The little girl was studying the white little bite she had bitten out of the red apple, bit another bite, studied it and nibbled away the skin that separated the two little bites creating one big bite.
