“You know, don’t you, the penalty for playing my Steinway without my permission?” Bonvissuto walked toward them. “What are you doing in here, Merlin?”

Drake picked up his exam papers and held them out. “I finished.”

“Yeah?” Bonvissuto skimmed the sheets for a couple of seconds. He snorted. “I told Leila Nielsen, using ‘Erstarrung’ was one dumb idea, you were sure to know it. No matter. Plenty of stuff you don’t know for next time.” He smiled sadistically. “How’s your Webern?” And then, before Drake could reply, “Go on, go on. Out of here, both of you.” He waved his hands at them. “Merlin, we’ll discuss your test tomorrow morning. Werlich, I registered you. You’re legal. You come in at one tomorrow, we’ll work on your middle register. Now, go. What you waiting for?” And then, when they were almost out the door, “Since you two are going to be performing in public together, you’d better practice. You need polish.”

Drake knew her name, or at least part of it. Werlich. And she knew his. They stood in the corridor, staring at each other.

“Did you hear that?” she said at last. “Performing together. Do you think he meant it?”

“I don’t know.” Drake had played before small groups only. The idea of a public concert froze his blood. “But he usually means what he says when it’s about music.”

She held out her hand. “I’m Anastasia Werlich. Ana for short.”

“I’m Drake Merlin.” He took her hand and felt an odd compulsion to admit his secret “It’s actually Walter Drake Merlin, but I really hate Walter.”

“So don’t use it. You didn’t pick it. I’m not too fond of Werlich.” She frowned. “How much money do you have?”

The question threw him. Did she mean in the world, or in his pocket? Either way, it was an unsatisfactory answer.

“I have four dollars.”

She nodded. “All right. And I have nine. So I’m the rich one. I buy you a Coke.”