"Who?" She asked, again, her gray eyes big and round."I never heard of him, either," I explained, dunking a cookie in a glass of milk, a nightly ritua... for me. "But he wants you to send him 'something to read'. I assume that means music. He wants a fully scored orchestral piece, about a half hour long with room for an eight-minute piano solo. Have you written anything like that?"Mary blinked at me, her eyes semaphoring her confusion, gradually flapping faster and faster."What do you mean you. Not now. She saw no problem with shutting everyone out and being in no mood to chit-chat for the next few months. Maybe years. Isn’t that normal when your Dad dies? Can’t you all just fucking leave me be? For most of Emily’s life, her father had just been this roguish handsome guy who loved fast cars and shamelessly flirted with her mother. Her parents never officially divorced, but they’d been separated for longer than she could remember. Despite that, there was no apparent enmity. More

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