"I'm a piano teacher." I lifted my chin and cut him off. "A student of mine at Harmony Academy won first place in the National Youth Piano Competition this year. I trained her."
My hands could never grace a concert stage again. But I could still teach.
What they didn't know was that I'd become one of the most sought-after piano instructors in the world. People lined up at my door, and most of them still couldn't book a single lesson.
And my daughter was my finest student.
That piano I'd been looking at was simply for her to use during private training sessions at the academy.
When I said this, Wyatt visibly relaxed, as though he finally understood why the slip of paper had Harmony Academy's address on it.
But Vera's smile froze—just for an instant. "Well, congratulations, Mildred."
"Though... a youth piano competition. The prestige isn't quite the same, is it?"
"Not like the national competitions from back in the day..."
She didn't finish.
Because I smiled. "Oh, you're right. Those national competitions—you must remember them vividly."
"After all, you won yours using someone else's compositions."