Tess heard a piano playing. She turned and saw a black baby grand piano in the corner of the lobby. The top was up, and it was so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it, even from a distance. The melody was catching, almost hip hop but bluesy. The piano player had his bowler hat on and just at his feet underneath the piano was the terrier Princess sitting on a pink satin pillow as if it was her special place. The piano player was accompanied by a young female violinist, whose ability to hit a single note and hold it was almost like a percussion note to the bouncy blues-like song, if a blues-like song can be bouncy. The singer was there, too, and all Tess could catch of the lyrics was something like:

Dancin’ into the night now,

Dancing into the night.

I see. I see.

But I’m not sure you want me to tell you what I see . . .

It started out all light and airy, but the last lyric sounded almost like a warning.

Before she could direct Aunt Evie’s attention to the lobby, Tess turned back to the table. For a moment, there were only three people there. Colin’s mother and what Tess thought was his father and his sister Elizabeth. The boy who might be Colin wasn’t at the table any more. And the table was only set for three.

Tess shut her eyes and grabbed the marble tightly as she heard the song lyric repeat again . . .

I see. I see.

But I’m not sure you want me to tell you what I see . . .

She opened her eyes. She realized she was holding the marble really tightly. She let go of the marble and took her hand out of her pocket and as she did the image faded. The table was empty, the candelabra and the four people who had been seated there (or was it three people) were nowhere in sight. The table looked as if no one had been there yet, at all.

Tess turned to the lobby and the grand piano was gone, as well, and so were the piano player, the singer, and the lovely young woman playing high notes on the violin. The terrier Princess was nowhere to be seen.

Tess wondered if she had been imagining it. . . .

“Are you feeling all right, Tess?” asked “the person who used to be Max.”

“Yes,” said Tess instantly, almost snapping back at him. “Are you? You have been acting a little strangely, frankly. I’ve never seen you eat a baked potato without chives.”

The boy smiled. “I guess I was just in a spirit of invention,” he answered.

Tess didn’t remark on the use of the word “spirit” although she noticed it. Was that what it was? The whole phrase was troublesome. A spirit of invention. Or was she just imagining things?