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“That’s a good question,” Jordan said. “What do you do, Donald? I’m afraid my husband is a workaholic,” she added before Mr. March could attempt a response.

“People always accuse other people who strive continually for excellence of being workaholics. It never occurs to them that maybe these people enjoy what they do. If I may be permitted to give you some additional free advice, it’s that you should find something you enjoy. That way, it will never seem to be work to you, and you won’t be so concerned about relaxation. My work actually relaxes me. Isn’t it the same for your parents?”

“If it is, they’ve kept it a big secret,” Ryder said. Both Jordan and her husband looked taken aback. I couldn’t help but smile. I’d known him long enough already to know that it was a typical Ryder Garfield reply.

“Ryder doesn’t like talking about his famous parents very much,” I offered. “People are always trying to get information out of him about them.”

“Well, we’re not exactly working for Entertainment Tonight,” Mr. March said sharply.

“I understand what Sasha means,” Jordan said, instantly coming to my defense. Mr. March shot a look at her that would have bowled over a bull. “Are you enjoying Pacifica?” she asked Ryder.

“It’s all right,” he said with a small shrug.

“Just all right?” Mr. March pursued. “It’s rated the top private school in the state. You’re lucky to be there. Take advantage of all the opportunities it offers. Are you in any sport? The band?”

“Just navigating the rapids is sport enough for me right now,” Ryder said.

“What rapids?” Mr. March asked. He looked at me for help.

“Daily life among the rich and famous,” Ryder replied.

Mr. March just stared, but when he was agitated, he had a habit of moving his tongue against one cheek and then the other, making it look as if a small animal was trying to find the way out.

“Well, Sasha, why don’t you show Ryder around the house and property?” Jordan suggested, the way a referee might to ease tension. “Did you want Mrs. Caro to prepare a snack for you two?”

“Ryder?” I said.

“No, thank you, Mrs. March. In our family, eating between meals, unless it’s taking coffee with a producer, director, or agent, is a capital offense.”

Jordan looked to me to see if he was kidding. I knew he was and thought that Mr. March might at least smile, but he continued to glare at him and then looked at me before standing. His face was full of disapproval.

“Well, I hav

e some matters to address. Enjoy yourselves, while you can,” he added.

“I thought your work was your enjoyment,” Ryder blurted before Mr. March could turn away and start out.

“Yes, but I still have to pay attention to it,” Mr. March retorted in a sharp, poorly disguised tone of annoyance. “You can neglect and be irresponsible even with the things you enjoy.”

He looked at Jordan and relaxed his shoulders. Then he offered a weak smile.

“You’ll learn that the pleasure is in the journey. That’s why practicing shouldn’t seem like a burden, whether it’s playing the piano or the clarinet, as Sasha plays, or something in sports, whatever.”

He left. None of us spoke for a moment, and then Jordan said she had to speak with Mrs. Caro about tonight’s dinner.

“Will you be staying for dinner, Ryder?” she asked.

“No, thank you, Mrs. March.”

“Well, if you need anything, Sasha . . .”

“Thank you, Jordan,” I said.

She started out. Ryder looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I’m not really interested in seeing anything in the house at the moment. Let’s get some fresh air,” Ryder said, and we walked out, him moving ahead of me almost as if he wanted to escape. We paused on the steps. “Now I know why you took a deep breath before entering the house. Is he always like that?”