“Stop staring at me. Watch your step—Ms. Austin looks like she’s about to pass out from the heat again.”
She shot a wink at Isabella Austin. “Isn’t that right, Ms. Austin?”
Isabella’s face went from green to purple and back again—a truly remarkable sight.
On the way home, Emily Blair received the documents Arianna George had promised. She filled them out quickly and sent them right back.
Elizabeth Wilson, sitting beside her, glanced over with curiosity. “When’s your competition?”
“Next month,” Emily replied.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “That soon? Will you have enough time to practice?”
Emily’s hand paused. She lowered her voice. “I’ll manage.”
In her previous life, those bitter years, she hadn’t owned a piano. She couldn’t even dream of affording one. There was no money for lessons for her daughter, either. All she could do was play piano pieces on her battered old phone and sketch a keyboard on the floor with chalk.
Then, with the music playing from her phone, she’d perform for her daughter, pretending the chalk lines were real keys.
Her daughter, sweet and innocent, always clapped along, giggling at the little show, no matter how crude or makeshift their setup was. Those were their only moments of joy—practicing and teaching piano on a keyboard drawn on the floor.
She practiced for hours, until the floor was pitted and worn where her fingers landed again and again. Even now, she could remember the calluses that formed—so rough and thick compared to her soft hands today.
Elizabeth nodded. “There’s a piano at school. Maybe you could ask to borrow it after hours to practice.”
Emily smiled. “You think of everything.”
She turned her head just in time to see the bus pass a bookstore. Her eyes lit up as an idea she’d had before flashed through her mind.


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