“A lot of babies do, at first,” Emily told her, wanting to say something reassuring. Her heart really went out to Tessa. She saw so much of herself in this young mom—or so much of who she might have been. She admired how Tessa went after things—boldly, bravely, not compromising her plans unless she absolutely had to—but that aspect of her personality, so different from Emily’s own, also worried her. If you don’t bend, sometimes you break. Not every woman can be Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And it’s better to figure that out when you’re young, before you disappoint yourself too deeply when the realization does hit. At least then you have other options, at least then you don’t feel stuck in a life that doesn’t quite feel like it’s yours—like Ari seemed to. Like Emily did sometimes, too.

xiii

When we got to your grandfather’s house, he greeted us both with hugs.

“My musicians!” he said. He’d come to hear us play a few times, and Ari told us that it was all he could talk about to her for days after. “Do I get my own personal concert?”

I looked at your dad and he shrugged.

“Sure,” I said. Playing music was an easy way to make your grandpa happy. I had memories of cuddling with him on the couch, listening to my mom play when I was really small. And I played for him later. When my mom was at the hospital I would play the Eagles or Queen or the Rolling Stones for him. In those last couple of years, anything I could do to make him smile seemed worth it.

I sat at the baby grand in the living room, and your dad picked up the guitar that always rested next to it. Ari had taken lessons as a kid, but they never really stuck. Still, the guitar stayed, almost as if it had been waiting for your dad to come into our lives.

“What do you want to hear, Mr. Solomon?” your father asked, tuning the strings.

“How about some Kansas?”

Your dad raised an eyebrow at me. “Queenie?” he asked.

I flexed my fingers. “I think I could do ‘Dust in the Wind’ or ‘Carry On Wayward Son,’” I answered. It had been a while, but I was sure I could still get some of the progressions pretty easily, especially if your dad was leading with his guitar and vocals.

“I think I know all the words to ‘Dust in the Wind,’” he answered. “Let’s do it.”

I closed my eyes and listened to your dad play the opening guitar riff, then started fingering the second guitar’s riff with my right hand, my left playing chords. After we got through that bit, your dad started to sing.