What’s this?” I ask.
“Canteloube, Songs of the Auvergne. This is called ‘Bailero.’ ”
“It’s lovely. What language is it?”
“It’s in old French—Occitan, in fact.”
“You speak French, do you understand it?” Memories of the flawless French he spoke at his parents’ [bad word] to mind . . .
“Some words, yes.” Christian smiles, visibly relaxing. “My mother had a mantra: musical [bad word]  foreign language, martial art. Elliot speaks Spanish; Mia and I speak French. Elliot plays guitar, I play piano, and Mia the cello