On her way back inside, Crystal catches a glimpse of Savi and Rebecca upstairs. The window is open, and their music drifts down. Even from this distance, Crystal sees Savi’s face set in concentration and how she’s totally tuned in. Rebecca’s brown hair hangs loose around her shoulders, the breeze lifting and pushing it across her face, while Savi’s now sits perfectly under her ears. They look like mirror images of each other—the young and grown, the student and teacher.

The two of them are caught in some sort of musical trance, sharing a bond Crystal not only doesn’t understand but can never have with Savi. Her heart fills with gratitude that her daughter can have that after so much has been stolen from her. She deserves it.

Crystal stays until the music stops and her phone vibrates in her pocket. Pam. She sighs. She and Pam had a long talk, and she stuck to her story that Savi had asked her to cut her hair. But judging from the absolute hack job, it was Savi who grabbed those scissors—not Pam. She doesn’t know what bothers her more: that Savi did it or that Pam is lying for her.

Instead of answering, she silences the call. Inside, Crystal carries the art to the dining room. After some finagling and serious leveling, she hangs it and steps back to admire her work. “Perfection.”

“Mom, did you hear? I learned a new concerto today! Did you hear?” Savi rounds the corner and notices the art.

She closes her tape measure. “I did hear. It was mesmerizing. Are you done already?” Crystal checks her watch.

“Ms. Rebecca says I can stay a bit longer. Please? Can I stay a little longer?” She bobs up and down again on her toes. A spray of freckles, highlighted from summer, dapples the bridge of her nose. Crystal pushes back her daughter’s thick fringe of bangs and almost tugs on her now nonexistent ponytail. “Only if Ms. Rebecca really doesn’t mind.”

“Yay!” She rushes back upstairs. For the next half hour, Crystal loses herself in work and then heads upstairs to retrieve Savi. She pauses on the landing.

“Being an only child can be fun,” Bec says.

Crystal knows from their many conversations that Bec is an only child. She’s told Crystal about her cocoon of books, her forts made from tattered sheets, her mounds of stuffed animals, her treehouse built by a neighbor with pieces of salvaged wood.

But what has Crystal really shared with her?

“How?” Savi asks.

“Well, let’s see. You never have to share,” Rebecca explains. “You get to play with your friends and then send them home. You don’t have to argue or get in fights. Your room is your safe space. You get more attention. It’s quiet.”