“You think you don’t deserve a break.” Beverly stroked Nola’s arm. “Let me tell you something. You blame yourself for your parents’ death. But I was the adult in charge that day.” Her voice was low as she went on, “Their death was caused by alcohol and drugs, not by a couple of shrubs that had been moved.”

“It was my arrow that sent them over the cliff.”

“They couldn’t even see the sign in the dark.” Beverly wiped a tear that ran down Nola's cheek. “It hurts just the same.”

For a while, neither spoke. In the yard, Mini-Nazi was beating a rug; she distrusted vacuum cleaners. Nola’s fingers poked at a buttonhole in the blanket cover. “Aren’t singers first supposed to do gigs in nightclubs or weddings? At least it would be a preparation.”

“Most make a career of it and never get to cut an album.” Beverly continued stroking Nola's arm. There was a smile in her voice as she added, “Here’s a secret: Someone is keeping score. In that ledger, your bad luck has earned you a shortcut.”

“I can’t move away! Jenna is worse than ever.” Nola shut her eyes, blocking tears. Every day, there was another fuss over small or imagined hurts. Jenna believed that even her dolls hated her. “What will happen to her?”

“It’s only a test recording,” Beverly said.

“It’s just a test recording,” Wade said. He had told Beverly that since he was only twenty-six, they should call him by his first name.

He telephoned Nola again just to chat, asking what book she was reading, and telling her about the Broadway shows he’d seen. Wearing her favorite shirt, burgundy-colored with a keyboard design running down the left sleeve, Nola sat on the stool in Mini-Nazi’s corridor that smelled of disinfectants and clutched the phone to her ear. Wade laughed and talked about the music world. He was excited that long after the Beatles’ breakup, American artists were taking the world lead, with U2 just an exception. America also had technology on its side. The easy-to-break-and-scratch vinyl records were being replaced by the transportable cassettes. And digital technology was making new music in diverse ways that still weren’t obvious to many industry insiders. And then there was visual music. It was a line-extension that would be equally profitable as records. “With your first album, Musix will release a music video,” he said.

Nola gulped. Wade's talk reminded her of her father bringing home the sounds of new groups, telling her who was producing what music. But Wade moved among people who had the power to create and spread music. With his laughter and talk and promises, echoes of the big world streamed toward her, tantalizing, awesome, frightening.

She dared not confide her fears in him lest he never call again.