Natalie was grateful to leave the stage. She went down a side stairway and slid into the end seat on the front row. “Nice work,” Bertie whispered, leaning toward her.

She swiveled around to check out the packed auditorium. “I keep wishing my mom were here to see this.”

He patted her hand. “Who knows? Maybe she is.”

“Taking over the shop is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m loving it anyway.” Natalie bit her lip and focused on the stage. She would never get over her mother not being here. Maybe the point was not to get over it but to live with it. It’s so hard, she said to her mother. And that means you mattered.

Trevor told a funny anecdote about himself, using the flip side theme. The flip side of school is homeschooling. The flip side of being an only child is having a sibling. The flip side of living in the city is living in the wilderness. He painted a charming picture of himself, a boy who grew up apart from the rest of the world, with books as his companions and imagination fueling his speculation about how other kids lived.

“He’s acting,” Bertie whispered after a well-received laugh line.

Natalie frowned. “What’s that?”

“He’s acting. I can tell.”

“The guy performs all the time. Of course he’s acting.”

“Yeah, but there’s something else … it’s a subtle thing. Like he’s not telling his own story.”

“Well, judging by the reactions of these kids, it’s working just fine.”

Then Trevor switched gears, bringing two kids—preselected by his handlers—from the audience onstage with him, each representing an opposing view. Brother and sister. Dog and cat. Fat and skinny. To the delight of the audience, Trevor would suggest a setup and let the kids dramatize the story. Natalie leaned forward and looked at Dorothy and Peach, who sat several seats down in the middle of the row. The little girl watched Trevor with rapt attention, completely absorbed by the performance. Peach was covertly checking his phone.

When Trevor called Dorothy’s name, she was beaming as she hopped up to the stage and perched on one of the stools. Natalie leaned forward and caught Peach’s eye, giving him a thumbs-up sign. He put away his phone, then turned his attention to the stage. The expression of pride on his face made her smile.

The other girl, named Mara, was already there but was so bashful she literally couldn’t speak.

“That’s okay,” Trevor said easily. “I’ll come back to you, maybe find a way to flip your silence into noise.” Then he turned to Dorothy. “What’s your story?” he asked. “Toss me an idea, anything that’s on your mind. It can be anything at all.”

“It’s kinda hard,” Dorothy said, her voice high-pitched with nerves.