"You know everyone's going to hear this."
Nia looked at the strings. She looked at the bench. She set the navy bag down carefully, away from the harp's brass feet, because she had been taught that respect could be a placement of objects and not only a tone of voice. She sat. The bench was a little high. She adjusted it without fumbling, one hand on the wood, a small practiced turn she did not announce. She brought the harp to her shoulder. The column was cool even through the cardigan. Her right hand rose. Her left found the middle of the strings and did not strike them. Someone near the windows coughed and then thought better of a second cough. The framed orchestras watched from behind glass. The woman waited with the patience of a person who believed the next moment would put the afternoon back in its proper order.
"I know."
Mrs. Whitmore — that was the name on the registration clipboard two lines above a daughter listed for violin — folded her hands over the leather strap of her handbag. The gold earrings shifted when she tipped her head, performing the courtesy of an audience that had not bought a ticket and did not intend to be impressed.
"Well? We're waiting."
Nia's mouth was dry. The walk from the bus had been longer than the map suggested, and she had not wanted to drink from the lobby fountain and then have to find a restroom before they called her. Her voice, when it came, was not loud. It did not shake as much as she had imagined it would on the bus, which felt like a small mercy she had not budgeted for.
"Then listen."
Her wrists lifted. The red discs held their positions like a row of small closed mouths. The first string took the window light along its length, bright as a decision that had not yet been allowed to become a sound. The lobby leaned in. Mrs. Whitmore's eyebrows rested in their expectation. Mr. Carter stood with his hands at his sides, badge level, face unreadable to anyone who did not know what he was holding still. Claire forgot, for a second, to look at her mother.
No one had heard a note yet.