“Yes. I’ve never seen you here before. Who are you?”

“I’m Peter Barrington. I’m in the film school.”

“I’m Hattie Patrick,” she said, leaning over the lip of the little stage and offering her hand.

Peter thought she was even more beautiful close up.

“Are you new here?”

“Yes, I just started this term.”

“Where were you in school before?”

“In Virginia. I moved to New York just before Christmas. I live in Turtle Bay. Do you know it?”

“Yes. I once saw it from a tall building on Third Avenue. The interior garden looks very inviting,” she said.

“I’ll give you a tour of the gardens sometime.”

“I think we should wait until spring for that; everything’s dead now.”

“Do you compose or just improvise?”

“Composition is what I’m studying at Knickerbocker,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve made a film, which is nearly finished, but I don’t have a score. Would you like to try writing it?”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I’m eighteen,” he said. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be eighteen on Saturday,” she replied. “You talk like someone a lot older, no slang.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Peter said. “So do you.”

She laughed. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, either.”

“If you’re interested, I’ll take you to a birthday lunch on Saturday and then screen the film for you.”

“Screen it where?”

“At my house. Don’t worry, my dad will be there to chaperone us.”

She looked at him. “I’m not worried,” she said. “I’d like that, but could I see the film before then? That way I might have some ideas about the score to talk about.”

Peter took the screenplay and DVD from his leather envelope and handed it to her. “It looks best on Blu-ray.”

“I’ve got Blu-ray in my room. I’ll watch it tonight. What’s it about?”

“You’ll know tonight. Where do you live?”

“At Park and Sixty-third Street.”

“Do you know the Brasserie restaurant in the basement of the Seagram Building, entrance on Fifty-third?”

“Yes, I’ve been there.”

“May we meet at the Brasserie at twelve-thirty on Saturday?”

“Yes, that will be fine. You said your dad will be at the house. How about your mother?”

“She’s back in Virginia for a couple of weeks,” Peter replied, “moving us into a new house.”

“Are you going to live there?”

“Only part-time. New York is home, now.”

“Welcome to the big city. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s everything I dreamed it would be,” Peter said.

“You dreamed about living here?”

“Everybody who doesn’t live in New York dreams about living here. I’m no exception. I can go to the movies as often as I like.”

“The movies are your thing, are they?”