“Open it,” he said, “and you’ll see.”
The case was like nothing I had ever seen. The outside had strong, masculine black leather all around, and brass buckles held it closed. I released the buckles and looked inside — purple, tufted velvet held a battered, dented, dull and rusty brass instrument. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
“It’s a saxophone,” Mr. Edie said. “I’m starting a school jazz band, and I’d like you to be the lead saxophone player.”