Among them, in the front row, was one fine boy—a lead chorister with a medallion—younger than the other lead choristers, but with a fine voice. M...re than once the choir master would nod his direction with a “Collier-Jones, take this solo.” His voice rose with a purity and clarity like none other. He was perhaps twelve or thirteen, thin in an athletic way, with dark hair cut conservatively, with a tendency to fall over his eyes. He would sweep it back, with a shake of his head, or rearrange. Sliding back into the warm nest beside Samantha, he was amazed at how things had turned out. Samantha was an attractive woman. True it was early in their relationship but he wanted to get to know her much more. She was not a fragile flower despite her initial missteps, which were understandable. She was in a new field, in a strange, foreign city and expected to make it work without any real training. That thought made him angry. Clearly someone saw potential in Samantha or they would not have. More

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