Harrison stopped playing when he noticed the child standing near the stage. The entire room fell into a heavy, judgmental silence as Beatrice Sterling’s face tightened with visible annoyance.
Diana rushed into the room, her face pale as she reached for her daughter’s hand. “I am so incredibly sorry,” Diana stammered to the crowd. “She got lost, and I’ll take her back downstairs immediately.”
But Harrison remained focused on the little girl’s eyes, which were fixed on the black and white keys. “Do you play?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle compared to his mother’s icy stare.
Rosie took a small step forward and looked up at him. “I’ve never had a piano, but I think I know how the music wants to sound,” she said.
A few wealthy guests chuckled at her boldness, but Harrison stood up and stepped away from the bench. “Show me then,” he invited, ignoring his mother’s sharp clearing of her throat.
Rosie climbed onto the leather bench and let her feet dangle high above the floor. She took a deep breath and pressed the first few keys, her small hands shaking just a little bit.