On a late May evening, Helena invited Ethan and Richard to her office for tea—actual tea, in mismatched mugs that humanized her elegance. She spoke about long-term training, about not burning out a gift with too many competitions, about the difference between a career and a life that contains music. Richard listened without interrupting. Ethan asked questions that revealed how carefully he had been thinking.
"I don't need to be famous," Ethan said. "I need to be honest when I play. If honesty becomes a career, fine. If it becomes a teaching room like this someday, also fine. Mom taught in living rooms. That counted."
Helena Marie Ashcroft set down her mug. "Then we will build you a path that keeps honesty available. Fame is a weather system. Honesty is a climate. Dress for climate."
Richard chuckled. "She talks like you, Ethan."
"I talk like both of them," Ethan said. "It's crowded in here."
They left the academy at dusk. Sophia texted asking if duet practice was still on for tomorrow. Ethan typed yes and a ridiculous number of music emoji that he would have mocked a year earlier. Richard glanced over.