How could they allow her to play Heydn on a Steinway?!
Steinway is way too soft to play Heydn on it! ...Barbarians...!...
This is unacceptable....Timothy! - We are leaving!

It happened in Alice Tully Hall in NY during an intermission at a Piano concert. The lady must have been a musician herself once. Spending their winters in Florida probably, both her and her husband (?) looked like a pair of California raisins bound by an expert hairstylist between the perfect whiteness of whipped cream, silk and pearls.

Hearing the command to retreat Timothy immediately put down his glass and saying nothing figured out the shortest route to the exit. He probably have not uttered a single word for the last ten years since he retired from his business and let his wife do all the talking. As a lawyer he most likely never liked to bring work home anyway and kept quiet once out of the courtroom. His New York BARR Association tie parted the crowds in front of him more effectively than Moses' staff parted the waters of the Red Sea some thousands of years ago. People in New York say they hate lawyers, but they would gladly donate a kidney to get their daughter married to one. Contrary to Moses Timothy had only one follower.

Tim must have been a tough guy. They say that after forty everyone has a face he deserves. Apparently Tim worked hard to get the face he had. It was calm and seemingly cold. The lack of any expression gave it a flat look. If not for the quite significant nose his face would be much harder to navigate around. He lacked lips. His mouth was merely a narrow slit. When God created Tim he forgot to give him lips and in the last moment decided to make a horizontal incision. For a man who spoke as much as Tim it looked natural. It was an old, well-worn face. His eyes however looked much younger and they seemed twice bigger from under his thick glasses. They were constantly moving disrupting the peace and harmony otherwise comparable to Sphinx's.

Surviving all of his heart attacks classified Tim as a strong man and he had his pacemaker as a faithful ally. Coping with his wife's talking took a character made of granite and he could count on no support from any side. In his quietness he had something from an oriental warrior fighting his foes with infinite patience. Against his wife however this tactics did not prove to bring any flashy victories.
Tim seemed more than indifferent to his wife's talking. If he only decided to break his vows of silence he would probably respond like Kaptah often did to his master Sinuhe: "your words my lord are like buzzing of the flies".

Mrs. Tim decided to go into "the room of mirrors" before leaving the premises.
Tim stepped out for a fresh breath of evening. He took his jacket off and stared at the fountain. She was quiet. Her form and color however was changing constantly creating something like a language. It was a song from her to him performed all in body-language. She changed randomly. What fascinated him was that it was impossible to predict what was she going to say next. It was a language of gestures and light. He stood in front of her absolutely hypnotised. She knew how to be grateful for his attention.
-sir, would you help me to get my balloon back?
Tim looked down and saw two big brown eyes and a row of white teeth arranged in the cutest smile he was ever allowed to receive. She must have been no more than six. Birthday balloons are very important at that age. Indeed the silver balloon was trapped in the basin of the fountain and the falling streams of water seemed not to let it go.
Tim smiled and without rolling up his slacks stepped into the basin. He slowly reached for the shiny red heart trapped under the flow of her transparent hair. He stood there for a second admiring her from up close. Then he slowly turned back to the little girl reached down and handed her the balloon.
She managed to put her hands around him and kiss him on the cheek. He watched her as she was running away.
The fountain was still dancing and talking to him. She was more affectionate now he thought, after they came closer to each other.

TiiiiiiiIIIIIIM?! - the locomotive arrived and announced her presence with a blood-freezing whistle. Then her words as she approached melted into the monotonous noise one must get used to if wanting to travel by train.Tim gave the fountain the last look as he was getting into the cab. She was teasing him by dancing with her back towards him as if she did not pay any attention. He knew that it was his role to leave the train and go to her, look into her eyes and make her stay with him. The movement of her hands above her head made it clear that she knew he was watching her. The noise of the train however was getting louder. He got in and closed the door. He was ready to give up his life achievements just to be kissed by her again and he would even throw in both of his kidneys.
She waited for him in the middle of the square for a long while and finally disappeared as everyone else left Lincoln Center.

Three days later, there was a half page long obituary in NY Times. It included a picture from thirty years ago and read something like: Timothy Sterling, …NY BARR Assoc… husband… brother… colleague…dearest, will never be forgotten etc. I thought "loving" was one of the adjectives too.
It looked like it was Tim, but I am not sure.