Principal Harrison held the cream card a moment longer. "You know him?"
"Of course I know him," Ms. Blake said.
"On this piano?" Principal Harrison asked, nodding toward the lobby grand as if the instrument itself might object.
Ms. Blake's mouth tilted. "Why wouldn't he?"
Principal Harrison looked from the teacher to the boy and then to the open expanse of marble and glass where every footfall seemed to echo twice. "Well, Jack... everyone can hear you out here."
"I know," Jack said.
Principal Harrison studied him. The lobby had grown quieter. A mother near the wreath had stopped mid-sentence. A boy in a pressed blazer had lowered his Beethoven. Snow continued its soft assault on the windows.