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’ dinner come to mind . . . “Some words, yes.” Christian smiles, visibly relaxing. “My mother had a mantra: musical instrument, foreign language, martial art. Elliot speaks Spanish; Mia and I speak French. Elliot plays guitar, I play piano, and Mia the cello