I forced a smile back, deflated by his non-reaction. This was a thing, after all, wasn’t it? After months of stasis—me, switching lanes. But I knew better than to take it personally. Martin Chertok, Greatest Living American Composer, presided over the realm of music, not park teas. If it didn’t involve instruments, it didn’t warrant more than a passing wink.

Nora squeezed Oscar’s wrist as he followed Dad’s slow trudge upstairs. “So glad we nabbed you, Oscar. Can’t wait to see what you dazzle us with next!”

“Great to finally meet you, Ms. Visser,” he called back, his brown eyes meeting mine for the briefest second before he disappeared up the stairs.

I followed Nora out, turning the name “Ms. Visser” over in my head. She’d only been a “Visser” for six years. I’d gone to the wedding, but couldn’t remember what her last name was before that.

“Our newest recruit,” Nora said as a Bentley glided to the curb. “He’s young!”

“Is that a surprise?”

She waved to her driver and hopped in the back, patting the open seat for me to join her.

“Not at all.” She pulled out a lighted compact as we pulled away. “He just seems older in the video, don’t you think? Maybe because he’s got the baton. That does something to conductors. Gives them a little . . . what’s the word . . . ?”

“What video?”

“You haven’t seen it. Stop. Tell me you’ve seen it!”

I winced an apology.

“Ha! So there are limits to Nancy’s magic.” She dropped the compact into her purse and pulled out her phone.

“Nancy?”

“Wait, I’ve got to find this for you . . .” She started feverishly typing, then beamed up at me. “Gravitas!”

“Gravi—?”

“The word I was thinking of.” Her face was buried in her phone again. “Let me see if I can . . .”

We pulled onto the Seventy-ninth Street crossing. Traffic was at a standstill.

“Thank you so much for bringing me,” I put in, strangely jittery. “I haven’t gone to anything like this in forever.”

Nora squinted up. “Not the Cloisters. It can’t have been that long.”

“Two years, I think?”

“Anna kept twirling you, do you remember? Calling you her ‘miniature.’ God, she was so proud of you.”

I didn’t remember it—not like that. I remembered Mom fuming at Dad for not wanting to go out. Her too-sharp smile as she dropped a dress in my lap and told me to forget homework and Hanon, she needed a date. I’d been out of place, gawky and confused all evening, and it had still been a starlit blur of happiness. Our last hurrah.

“I’ve missed you, you know,” Nora said. “Your whole family.”

My throat went tight. “You see Dad, like, every day.”