“I hope you’re feeling super soon, Mr. Chertok,” Jules said, then backed down the hall, pointing over her shoulders. “I’m gonna change my earrings. These are . . . so wrong. Meet you outside!”

“You look amazing, are you kidding?” I laughed, realizing I’d never seen her so wound up before—then my nerves kicked in, tonight stretching before me like a dark mountain pass. Was I really going to do this?

Alice climbed back up, hoisting a giant bouquet of daffodils. “From our lovely mother!”

I peeked at the generic note—Get well soon. ~ Anna Weston-Chertok—and rolled my eyes so hard, it hurt.

“Still not speaking to her.” Alice dumped the flowers on the far end of the room.

Dad’s ringer cut out, replaced by a duet of “Hey!” from two familiar voices. Leo and Win must have picked up at the exact same time.

Alice and I tiptoed through the flowers to pop our heads around each of Dad’s shoulders, getting an iPad view of not only Win, tuxedoed, joining from what looked like a greenroom, and Leo, sporting a beard to rival Dad’s—but Leo’s two kids, already in their jammies for the night.

“That’s not Ruby!” Leo said, leaning way in so all we could see was his nostril. “There’s no way.”

“Hi!” I waved. “It’s been a while.”

“Jesus. You’re a grown-up!”

“Isn’t it terrifying?” Win shouted.

“Not a grown-up yet,” Dad said in his grizzly bear voice. “One more year, and even then, I might not let her leave.”

“Yes, you will,” Alice groaned.

“Nice dress, kiddo,” Dad said to me, more quietly. His eyes were sad, and for a second I regretted this getup, looking so much like her.

“Are you going to a party?” Matilda asked shyly from the screen.

“Hey, Tilly!” I leaned into frame. “Yes! Well, sort of. A concert.”

“Ruby’s headed to Oscar Bell’s debut,” Dad said. “Everybody who’s everybody is there.”

“That must be why our audience is half-full tonight,” Win piped up, adjusting his collar. “Tosca cannot compete.”

“You could still go, Dad,” Alice said. “We could get you a wheelchair, seat you in the wings. Nobody would even need to know you were there.”

“Doc said cut out stress,” Dad said with a sanguine smile. “Vicarious nerves would be bad enough, watching the kid up there. And the politics of that place—I don’t need it.”

There was something behind that smile, a muffled sadness in his eyes—maybe even shame.

Dad didn’t think he deserved to be there tonight. And I wasn’t sure I disagreed.

He turned to me with a complicit wink. “You and Oscar knock ’em dead.”

Alice turned to me, eyebrows raised, my inclusion in that note of encouragement not lost on her. She really would have made a great spy in another life.