"Then do the next right thing while it's still next," she said. "Not in five years when it's a regret with a title."
Harrison nodded. The water glass remained untouched. Outside, snow erased the sharp edges of the neighborhood until even the streetlights looked forgiving.
---
In the weeks before Jack officially began at Westbridge, Ms. Blake visited the apartment above the hardware store with enrollment forms and a list of what the academy would provide versus what families typically assumed. She sat at Eleanor's small table and spoke without condescension. She noticed the pawnshop keyboard and asked Jack to play eight bars of anything. He played eight bars of the Nocturne. The keyboard's action was limited; Jack's listening was not.
"We'll get you time on better instruments," Ms. Blake said. "But don't despise this one. It kept you honest."
Eleanor served tea in mismatched mugs. "Will they be kind to him?"
Ms. Blake did not offer a cheap yes. "Some will. Some will be competitive in ways that look like unkindness even when they aren't personal. Some will be personal. He has enough spine. We'll add armor that doesn't harden his ears."