And yet I could feel it taking over. To all these people, I was the green dress girl. I could do nothing but stand here and they would think they knew something about me.

I scanned the room, spotting a brunette in a brocaded cocktail dress laughing at something the man with her had said before turning away, her face sinking with boredom for a telltale blink. Could I guess what her life was like? Did she have a job, a passion to pursue, a singular impact, or did she flit from event to event, patron of the arts and sciences and social service organizations and children’s hospitals . . .

“Oh, would you please?” Nora’s voice rose above the string quartet like she was trying to accompany it in a light lyric soprano.

I turned to see her dinging her champagne flute with a knife she’d produced from God knew where. At the sound of it, the musicians stopped playing and the room’s conversation settled into a curious hum. Beside her, Oscar rocked back onto his heels, waiting.

“I’ve spoken to many of you tonight about our newest prize pupil here at Amberley,” Nora sang out. “Well, I’m pleased to tell you that he has just agreed to honor us with a performance.”

“Ooooh,” went the crowd in unison as Oscar shot them his spotlight grin and strode to the piano. His step was so assured that I had to assume he’d been prepped on this “impromptu” in advance. Then his eyes flitted to mine—briefly, imploringly—and the world stopped.

He’d been put on the spot.

But, without hesitation, he started to play, calling out a casual “Here’s a little something I came up with on my ride from the airport.”

The whole party laughed appreciatively, and there it was, the fugue—the first “Bell” tune I’d ever heard—and I wondered why I’d bothered to worry. This was where he lived. This was where he made sense.

As he was reaching the end of the exposition, he glanced around the room and said, almost flirtatiously, “Requests?”

“The song from YouTube!” a young blonde called back, her fuchsia-lipped friend giggling beside her.

Everyone in the room shouted agreement. Had they all seen the video? Oscar wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. He launched into it.

“An abbreviated version of the Kudzu Variations. Let’s call it the YouTube Suite.”

“A world premiere, ladies and gentlemen!” Nora said, sweeping across the room to whisper in another woman’s ear before arcing back in my direction.

I took another swig of champagne and ditched it on a side table before she could reach me, feeling unbalanced as I glanced around. Oscar was playing, layering, ornamenting. The music—you could taste it, fizzy, tart—why were these people chitchatting over it?