Savi giggles. “Ms. Rebecca, that’s my nose.”

“What?” Bec tents her hands on her hips. “That can’t be your nose. That’s your hair. I’m sure of it.”

“No!” Savi jumps up and down and then guides Rebecca’s hand to her hair.

Bec smiles and ruffles the ends. “Oh here’s your hair. Silly me.” She inspects the cut. “My goodness, this is so glamorous! Maybe I should get a haircut too? Good job, Mom.” Bec directs a smile her way.

Crystal doesn’t tell her the truth, though not knowing exactly what happened has sparked something grim in her gut.

“Now I look like a more serious mugician and masician,” she says. “Wait! I mean a magician and a musician.” Savi’s scrambled words make her laugh so hard, a tiny toot blasts into the room. Rebecca erupts into uncontrollable laughter and hitches forward, holding her stomach until tears smear her cheeks.

“A mugician!” She laughs again and finally straightens. “Oh my God, Savi. You have no idea how bad I needed that today.” The laughter keeps coming and going until they both compose themselves.

Once they’re quiet, Crystal clears her throat. “Sav, why don’t you head upstairs to get ready?” Crystal suggests. “I’ve got something for Bec.”

“Okay.” Savi takes off toward the staircase, hoisting her case overhead like a pro.

“Holy shit,” Bec says, once Savi is out of earshot. “That kid is medicine.”

At least someone finds her recent behavior amusing, Crystal thinks. She retrieves the gift at her feet. “I brought you something.”

“You didn’t have to do that. Coffee?”

“Sure.” Crystal lugs the piece into the kitchen and carefully lays it on the counter while Bec pours her a cup. “How are you doing … since the party?”

“Well, I’ve not jumped into any pools or made a public fool of myself, if that’s what you mean.” Upstairs, Savi’s bow begins to work. Bec smiles, closes her eyes, and tilts her chin up until her throat is exposed. Her hair cascades down her back in a brown river. “Listen to that. What a gift.”

“She definitely has a natural talent.”

“As a mugician and a masician,” she jokes. “I hate the word prodigy, because it gets tossed around in the musical world, but she”—Bec stabs her finger upstairs—“is a true prodigy. You need to know that.”

“It’s a lot of pressure,” Crystal suddenly blurts. “To know what to do with that much talent, I mean.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why you have me.” She searches for her hand on the Formica, and Crystal slides it forward to help. “So what did you bring? More blueprints?”

“No.” Crystal studies the piece of art. “I’m sorry I didn’t wrap it. I figured I didn’t have to … is that insensitive?”