When Nola took Jenna to visit the old man the next day, she thanked him, and he made his funny grunts because he still couldn’t speak. There had been absolutely no change in his condition for years, which made Nola hopeful that he’d live for a long time. She liked him a lot now, and was not disgusted to have Christmas dinner with him in the huge dining room where he sat at the other end of a very long table. He had a bicycle for Jenna and a small drum set for Nola. While Jenna rode around, Nola just talked and talked. About dance that was a feeling of strings pulled separately and together, or maybe like a clock with many parts gliding in and out of invisible notches. She told him about the school play in which she starred and about the songs she was writing. In the large room with its high ceiling, she raised her voice so it echoed when it bounced off the dark paneled walls.

Later, the old man’s four children came by. They were much older than Dad had been, and their kids had already finished college. As always, they ignored Nola and Jenna, so she took Jenna to the orangerie and played on the Steinway to show them that she was a good girl. No one paid attention until she started to sing. One peeked in, then stayed, then another drifted in, and finally they all stood in a circle around the piano. They clapped when she was done, and two granddaughters said she was amazing.

One day, this house would belong to them and she wouldn’t be able to visit. If it were hers, she would turn it into a home for good children who had no parents. She’d also invite kids whose families couldn’t take care of them, like when Jenna had needed all that medical attention. One thing for sure, though: In her special home, she would hire only nice people, not nurses like Miss Helga.

The following fall, Jenna started school but quickly grew unhappy. She was mean to the children who tried to play with her. She bit or hit them and then threw herself on the floor in temper tantrums. By the end of the semester, the teachers recommended she be sent to a special school, for her behavior robbed others of their learning and play time.

Mini-Nazi, too, didn’t know what to do with this ungrateful child who would not be restrained. Once, Nola called their caseworker to complain that again Miss Helga had locked Jenna in the hall closet. But a new caseworker had been assigned to Jenna, a huge, bearded Mexican man with scary black eyes who spoke weird English, and when he questioned Miss Helga, she told him that she’d rather go back to emptying bedpans at Smithtown Hospital. No one could pay her enough to have this disturbed girl in her house.