“How? I’m not going as a music student. You know how things work out. Students all get involved in their school activities. I’ll just be an outsider. I’m worried,” her voice broke. “I want to have fun, but more than that, I want to do something for me—something that matters—if you know what I mean.”
Mrs. Lurie looked distraught. “You don’t want to come with us? It’s the first summer in years that we’ve been able to plan to be together like a normal family. You’re sure to find companions.” She turned to her husband for support, but he had disappeared.
“Judy,” her mother said with a touch of finality in her voice, “there’s no sensible reason why you can’t take up the piano again. Don’t set your mind against it. The whole atmosphere of Aspen engenders the love of music, the desire to study it.”
“But that’s exactly what I don’t want, Mother. Can’t you understand my feelings? Practicing hours on end! I’ll never be a real performer, so why bother?” She hesitated and then went on, her voice almost inaudible. “I’d rather stay with Grandma and Grandpa at the Beach House, hearing poetry and plays that I love.”
Her mother suddenly looked sad, and Judy was overcome with remorse.
“Mother,” she began.
The tired eyes looked at her questioningly, “Yes....”
“I guess I’m just being selfish,” Judy said, then added desperately, “Maybe it’ll work out all right. I’ll go.”
Minna smiled with relief. “I don’t think you’ll regret it. Sometimes new unfamiliar surroundings bring out a potential one didn’t know one possessed. Something good is bound to emerge from the three of us living together in a carefree atmosphere.” She paused, studying her daughter’s face.
“Our careers have often come first—or so it seems, but for a little while we’d like to be just parents. Do you understand? It would have been an unbearable disappointment to your father.”