They stood together in the lobby beside the grand piano.
"Do you remember," Harrison said, almost amused, "when I told you everyone could hear you out here?"
"I remember," Jack said. "I said I knew."
"You did know," Harrison replied. "That was the part I couldn't hear yet."
Ms. Blake smiled. "He knows more now. Dangerous habit."
Jack rested his fingertips on the closed fallboard, not playing, just acknowledging. Outside, snow began again, as if the weather had been waiting for the cast to reassemble. Inside, a young girl with a navy backpack—different face, similar intensity—hovered near the registration table with a cream-colored card in her hand.
Harrison saw her. Jack saw her. Ms. Blake saw her.