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Cleveland Orchestra, which instrument would you be?”
    I smiled, as if I thought the question were intriguing, even fun. “I’d be a sarrusophone.”
    There was a long silence. Finally a blonde at the end of the table smiled dismissively. “Oh, you mean sousaphone .”
    I called on that summer of music history. “No, a sarrusophone’s a wind instrument, something like the contra-bassoon. It’s made of metal, so it’s louder. But you can see why being one would be appealing?”
    They couldn’t.
    “They’re almost never used,” I explained. “I would rarely be called on to perform.”
    The room was silent, and in seconds I realized why. I’d as much as announced I was not a worker bee. I hastened to improve the situation.
    “Not that I’m lazy, of course. I just don’t like the limelight.”
    Veronica gave a throaty laugh. “Well, we won’t have to worry about a conflict of interest with Aggie, girls. She won’t be trying out for the Idyll, will she?”
    Everybody else laughed, too, although the ripple was strained. I was now on probation.
    “Aggie, you must have worked on a number of committees,” Veronica said. “Being a pastor’s wife.”
    I tried my most winning smile. “Not so many. I make a point of not going head-to-head with the people who issue Ed’s paycheck. I worry—”
    “Aggie is our historian and a tireless worker,” Sally interrupted, vouching for me.
    “Well, nobody here is issuing anybody’s paycheck.” Veronica paused. “Except Grady Barber’s.”
    “Which still concerns me,” Sally said, leaning forward, her hands clasped earnestly on the table. “The size of that paycheck, I mean. We’re paying that man twenty thousand dollars to judge this show! That’s twenty thousand that could go toward the new pediatric wing.”
    Veronica’s voice was soft, but her tone was as hard as, well, a sarrusophone’s.
    “Sally, without a celebrity judge, the only people that will come to see the Emerald Springs Idyll are the family and friends of the participants. And then only reluctantly. It’s all about the judges, don’t you see? With Grady sitting at the side of the stage, everybody’s going to come. They’ll all want to hear what he has to say. They’ll buy tickets for every single night. Advertisers are fighting to put ads in the programs and to be announced as sponsors. We’ll make money hand over fist.”
    “But twenty thousand dollars? It’s extravagant.”
    “It’s cheap! It’s well below his normal fee. He’s an Emerald Springs boy; he’s famous, and he’s only doing it at that rate as a special favor to me. Besides, we’ve solicited personal donations from the hospital board to cover most of it.”
    There was a silence as they both regrouped and drew deep breaths. And into the breach I leapt.
    “Grady Barber?”
    Every head turned; every eye stared at me again.
    Tropical birds were singing from airy bamboo cages behind Veronica’s chair. I’d missed this on my initial view of the conservatory. I squelched an urge to spring to my feet and throw open cage doors as a distraction.
    “If Aggie doesn’t know who he is, what about all the twentysomethings? The teenagers?” Sally demanded.
    “Aggie, you’re not from Emerald Springs?” Veronica asked.
    I shook my head, although an answer was unnecessary. Had I been, they would have known better than to ask me to serve beside them.
    “You’ve heard of Wayfarers of the Ark ?”
    I scrambled for the right answer. I’d heard of Raiders of the Lost Ark . The Ark of the Covenant. Geometric arcs. The Arc de Triomphe. Archetypes. Noah’s ark. Then I realized where this was going. I heard a snatch of a song in my head, a high, sweet tenor voice singing . . .
    Sailing toward a rainbow . . . stretching overhead . . .
    “The movie,” I said. “I remember the theme song, from my childhood.”
    “Exactly. And the artist who performed it was our very own Grady Barber, who played Idan, Noah’s grandson. He’s also