I sat at the never-ending kitchen table, all oil-spotted and cup-stained, and let the dinner fill me up while Terry and Julia chatted with Nick about his new job in a San Francisco skyscraper. I half listened, taking in the details of the kitchen. The blue-and-white-flowered curtains, the butcher-block counters, the giant mason jars lined up on shelves, full of flour and cornmeal and sugar and rice. I had never been anywhere like it.

“Well . . . ,” Nick said when he had finished eating.

“You’re sure we can’t persuade you to stay?” Terry asked.

“Gotta work in the morning. But I’ll come up again soon. Good luck,” he said, giving me a quick hug goodbye. “Don’t let these two work you too hard.”

They walked him out, and by the time they returned I was also finished eating.

“Mila,” Terry said, picking up my empty plate and water glass. “Why don’t you stay and visit with us for a little bit before I show you around.”

“I’d love to,” I said. “Can I help clean up?”

“Oh, don’t worry about these. You’ll be cleaning up plenty soon enough.” He set my dishes in the sink and smiled as he nodded toward the living room, where I could see that Julia was already arranging pillows on one of the sofas. I followed him up the two steps that separated the rooms. A fire burned under a grand hearth, glowing across overstuffed chairs and floor pillows, two sofas and a grand piano. The whole room was covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves laden with books and framed photographs. Rugs piled upon rugs. Everything was beautiful and nothing was perfect, and I didn’t know how I could have been chosen to be there.

Julia sat on the sofa, one leg tucked under. “Nick said you had an easy drive up. Have you been this far north before?”

I chose one of the chairs and sank into it. “No,” I told her. “Never this far.” I traced the outline of a bird printed on the armrest. I was trying not to look at the grand piano, which filled up the corner behind her. The sight of it made my chest ache.

The fire crackled and light danced across the ceiling and I wanted to give them something of myself. “I have to tell you . . .” They both leaned forward. “Nick told me about the piano. And for some reason I said I wanted to learn how to play it, but I actually know how to play. It’s just been a very long time.”

Julia laughed. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The things that come out of our mouths.”

“I’m glad you told us,” Terry said. “What a treat to have someone here who plays well. There’s enough terrible playing, believe me.”

“I don’t know if I play well. It’s been years.”

“Do you want to play now?” Julia asked.