"I think we have to talk over some of the thematic elements of the piece, they seem to be getting lost in the technical aspects." Professor Thurman tucked her legs under her on the sofa, pen poised over the score.

"Well, yes, I told you the technical shit was giving me a lot of trouble," Graham replied, turning from where he sat at the piano. "You knew this piece was going to take a lot of time."

She regarded him calmly. "Yes, but you should be well on your way by now, not still mucking about with the dynamics, for heaven's sake."

Graham shrugged. "I can't start worrying about all that other stuff until I have the tech down, right?" It would come when it came, he was doing all he could.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked around the well-appointed room. Professor Thurman lived on Fifth Avenue, and not the northern or southern portion. No, she lived right across from Central Park, the swankiest part. His whole apartment would've fit in this room, he believed. The huge windows let in tons of afternoon light, and the temperature was a nicely modulated 72 degrees, with just the right humidity for the gorgeous piano he was playing.

"Okay, go back to where the left hand takes over the theme repetition, take it from there. Let's get this hammered out." She added as an afterthought, "Do you mind if Katherine listens in? She's probably going to have to play part of this for a class."

Graham shrugged acquiescence, and she sent her daughter a quick text.

Katherine entered the room, and  rather than sit next to her mother as Graham had supposed she would, she came to stand behind him, bringing the fragrance of her expensive perfume with her.

"Hullo, Graham," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder

He shrugged it off without turning around. "Hey there," he responded briefly. "You ready?"

"Yes, sure."

Graham began where Professor Thurman had instructed, trying to concentrate on the content without letting the technical aspects fall apart, without losing all of the work he'd been doing at home on pacing and articulation. He always had trouble with Rachmaninov, and the Prof damned well knew it. Why have Kath come in and listen to him screw it up?

He felt Katherine move a little closer, so he could feel her body heat on the left side of his back. She knew better than to touch him while he played, but he could sense her hovering, wanting to put her hand back on his shoulder.

It irritated him, and upped the tempo on purpose. Sure enough, within a few measures Professor Thurman had clapped her hands, the sign for him to stop.

"What on earth are you doing? It's andante!"

"Sorry. I told you, I'm having a tough time with this one."

"He's been working on it very industriously, Mother," Katherine put in. "Every time we text it seems he's working on it."

"Every time you text me, you mean."

Katherine looked at him, hurt. Now she did leave him to go and sit next to her mother, who put a comforting hand on her daughter's arm.

"What is it about being in this house that gets you so cross, might I ask?"

"Maybe it's the company."

Katherine gasped and rose.

"No, Katherine, please—"

"It's okay, Mum, you two need to work." And she left, blond hair bouncing against her shoulder blades.

"I really wish you wouldn't be so rude to her," Professor Thurman remarked. "She is trying."

"I really wish she weren't such a cast iron bitch," Graham responded evenly.

The professor sighed. "Fine. Let's go back to the first movement, shall we? You want orchestration?"

Graham shook his head. "Not yet, I have a few questions about page three—"

After his lesson was over, Katherine caught up with him in the foyer.

"Look, I'm sorry I horned in on your lesson," she said. "It's a really nice day, not too hot, how about if we go for a short walk in the park? I'll buy you an iced coffee."

Graham sighed.

"Do you have to show you hate me every moment we're together?"

"I don't hate you, I'm indifferent. There's a difference."

Katherine just looked at him and swallowed. "Please. Mum's birthday's coming up, we need to plan something."

Graham opened the door and held it for her.

"Great!" Katherine smiled. "Just let me grab my sunnies—" she put a pair of sunglasses on and stepped out.

They quickly crossed the street and walked along the Central Park side of Fifth where it was shady.

"So, I was thinking of something really posh, you know, like at the Rainbow Room? Very dressy, I think she'd like that," Katherine began. "And maybe you could play?"

"Sounds fine," Graham answered ungraciously. "When?"

They turned right and entered the park, walking along the many paths as they discussed the Professor's upcoming birthday.

"Graham!"

He turned toward the voice, and was happily surprised to see Cressida sitting on a shady bench, laptop open on her legs.

"Cressida. What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I had to come uptown so I figured I'd come here and get some writing done, it was such a beautiful day."

She saw that he was walking with an absolutely stunning young woman, blond hair in a sleek ponytail, tailored trousers and blouse fitting her perfectly.

"This is Cress." He gestured. "Cressida, my professor's daughter, Katherine."

"We were just going to get a coffee from the cart, would you like to join us?" Katherine asked politely.

"Sure, thanks," Cressida responded, rising and closing her laptop.

The three of them made their way to the cart, where Katherine bought iced coffees for all three of them. They took them to a small table with three chairs and sat down.

"So, how do you know each other?" Kathrine asked. She was avidly curious about this waif-like girl who looked no more than fifteen. She was wearing denim capri pants, sneakers, and a Pikachu T-shirt.

"Cress is my upstairs neighbor," Graham said, sliding an arm around the back of Cressida's chair.

Cress swallowed, startled by this gesture, the first overtly friendly thing he'd said or done since bringing her the flowers before their disastrous dinner together a few weeks before.

Katherine, too, stared at his arm where it rested behind Cressida.

"She's a journalism major at NYU," he continued.

"Journalism, how marvelous," Katherine said. "Sometimes we forget as music majors that there are others out there, studying all manner of things."

"Yeah, her apartment is full of books. She loves to read while I play, don't you, Cress?" Graham smiled at Cressida.

"Uh, yeah, I do," she responded uncertainly.

"She sits out on the fire escape so she can hear me."

And Cressida, who as far as she could recall had never done anything of the kind, turned in her seat and stared at Graham.

He in turn put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Katherine again looked at the hand in question and blinked. She shifted her gaze to Cressida, in her capris and T-shirt, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

Cressida smiled at her while taking a big drink of her coffee.

"So, your parents were fans of Greek legends, I take it?" Katherine queried. "Or was it Shakespeare that they were fond of?"

At Cressida's blank look, she went on. "Your name? Cressida?"

"Oh." Cressida shook her head. "Nope. My dad heard it in a movie when my mom was pregnant, and they both liked it, that's all." She sucked on her straw, smiling around it at Katherine. All around her she could hear robins and mockingbirds, all the summertime birds of Central Park.

"I see. Well, Cressida was a Trojan woman who fell in love with Troilus and pledged everlasting love to him, but when he was sent away to the Greeks, she changed her mind pretty quickly and fell in love with Diomedes instead. In pop culture, the character of Cressida has sort of come to be the symbol of the faithless lover." Katherine smiled back as she imparted her information.

"I guess that's something you'd know a lot about," Graham interjected smoothly.

"What?" Cressida looked over at Graham, shocked.

"Yeah, promising eternal love and fidelity, then reneging on all of it, that's right up Kath's alley, isn't it?"

Katherine sat, stunned. "Why? I'm just trying to have a nice, friendly coffee with your friend, and you have to turn it into something nasty."

"Nasty?" Graham repeated. "I just made a perfectly reasonable comment based on the facts in evidence—"

"Facts in evidence," Katherine repeated bitterly. "How long are you going to punish me?"

Cressida rose. "I should go," she began. "You two obviously need to talk—"

Graham, too, rose, grasping Cressida's elbow firmly. "No, you know what? I need to go too. I've had about as much of her as I can stand."

He quickly propelled Cressida away and out of the park.

"What on earth is going on?" Cressida demanded as they headed toward the bus stop on Fifth Avenue. "Why were you so mean to her?"
"Me? Mean to her?" Graham repeated, shocked. "She was nothing but rude to you from the moment we sat down. Her comments about your name, her snooty, know it all attitude, and the way she was looking at you—"

"What are you talking about?"

The bus came and they got on, sitting together in the back as they continued their conversation.

"She's always been that way."

"What way? The only rude person sitting there was you," Cressida informed him.

Graham inhaled a deep breath and looked out the window, where the Plaza Hotel was now sliding by.

"And what exactly did you mean about all that cheating stuff being right up her alley?" Cressida put a hand on his arm, which he angrily shook off. "Oh my god, did something happen between the two of you? Did you used to go out?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Graham muttered continuing to look outside.

They spent the rest of the ride home in silence.