The newspapers arrived warm, still shedding the scent of ink.
Cass spread them across the breakfast table and let the black letters gleam. Rowena's name appeared again and again. Fresh adjectives. New metaphors. That rare tone critics use when they believe they have discovered the future by accident.
Elaine tried to read but kept blinking away tears. Thomas held the business page like a man who finally believed he had the right to be consulted. Cass poured coffee and watched them absorb the world's approval at a pace that felt humane.
'Let it land. Let it change the way they stand.'
He folded a review and placed it by Elaine's plate.
"Keep that one," he said. "They will quote it for years."
Elaine touched the pendant at her throat and smiled without hiding how much it meant.
"You made them see her," she said.
"I showed them the room," Cass said. "She turned on the light."
Thomas cleared his throat, the sound thick with pride.
"I used to read names and think of other people's children," he said. "Now I read and think of us."
Cass lifted his cup in a small toast.
"To us," he said. "And to the next step."
The phone rang before the moment broke. He let it ring twice. He wanted the name to enter the room like a guest who knew they were expected.
"Darlene," he said when he answered.
Her voice carried the practical music of someone who ran stages instead of merely watching them.
"Your performance dinner did something," she said. "The board is buzzing. I called Wigmore this morning."
He did not move. He let Thomas and Elaine study his face and read the result there.
"And," he said.
"And they have a date. A real one. Late spring slot. If she wants it, it is hers."
Cass looked toward the window. The morning had softened, as if the city had decided to be generous for once.
"She wants it," he said. "Send the details. We will make it a night the city remembers."
Darlene laughed quietly.
"You speak as if the city is an employee," she said.
"It is," Cass said. "It just has bad management."
They said their goodbyes. He set the phone down and let the silence swell.
Elaine clasped her hands together.
"Wigmore," she whispered. "Is that the good one with all the stories about legends and ghosts?"
"The good one with better acoustics," Cass said.
Thomas stood up and pulled him into a quick hug that he tried not to make awkward.
"I will practice my applause," Thomas said.
Cass felt the system stir like a satisfied cat.
[Mini Quest Complete: Secure Wigmore Hall Recital Invitation]
[Reward: Press Access Token. Cultural Network Reputation increased.]
He breathed out and let the invisible threads settle.
The air seemed lighter. Every glance, every word carried further than it should.
He called Rowena and put the phone on speaker so his parents could hear.
"You will not joke about this," she said the second she picked up. "If you say something ridiculous, I will hang up and make you call back with manners."
"Wigmore," Cass said.
Silence. Then a small sound that was not quite a laugh and not quite a sob.
"When," she said.
"Late spring," he said. "Enough time to choose the program. Enough time to own the room before you even step into it."
"I am sitting on the floor," Rowena said. "I do not know why. I sat down when you said it, and now I cannot get up."
Elaine pressed her fingers to her smile.
"Come for lunch," Cass said. "We will choose flowers you can argue with later."
Rowena exhaled and found her balance again.
"I will come after practice," she said. "I will bring the score that scares me most, and you can talk me into loving it."
"You already love it," Cass said. "You just do not trust the feeling yet."
He ended the call and watched his parents try to behave like calm people who had seen wonderful things before.
"You will sit in the front row," he said. "Not together. One on each side. That way, when she glances up, she sees a home across the whole hall."
Elaine reached across and squeezed his hand.
"Your mind is a frightening place," she said.
"It is a useful place," he said.
The rest of the morning belonged to the quiet rituals of ordinary joy. Elaine selected linens that matched nothing except her taste. Thomas argued with a coffee machine that would have required a small team only last year.
Cass answered messages and lined up meetings. He did not chase. He allowed people to find space in his calendar. It made them behave like supplicants without feeling humiliated.
By midday, he walked through the university commons. Students tracked him without quite looking. Laughter moved ahead of him like a herald.
He paused by a noticeboard where posters for societies and bands competed for a little rectangle of attention. A group of students clustered nearby.
Trent stood with them, talking fast, hands cutting the air to underline points that did not need underlining. Cass approached slowly, as if he might change direction at any moment. It made the group adjust toward him without knowing they had moved.
"Trust meeting in the Old Library at noon," he said to the nearest student. "Scholarship info. Some of you will leave with interviews. If you know anyone brilliant and broke, drag them with you."
The student blinked and nodded, already half turned to run and fetch friends.
Trent forced a smile.
"Trying to buy the whole campus now?" He said.
Cass looked past him and addressed the group.
"Bring questions about housing, instruments, travel," he said. "Bring a list of what you need to become who you already are."
A girl lifted her hand.
"Even if we are not musicians," she said.
"Especially if not," Cass said. "Music has Rowena. Math might still need you."
Laughter rippled.
Trent tried again.
"People are saying you bought last night," he said. "Lots of generous checks. Very convenient praise."
Cass tilted his head, not at Trent, but at the clock above them.
"Old Library," he said, still to the group. "Ten minutes."
He turned to go. The cluster moved with him. Trent remained with two friends who had decided their shoes were interesting.
At the Library steps, the dean waited with Margaret Hales. A line of students formed, quick and hopeful. Cass put pens into her hands and spoke in sentences that solved problems instead of making announcements.
Trent arrived late and stood at the back, where he could pretend he was there by choice. Cass greeted him like any other student and asked if he had brought a transcript.
The room smiled in the way rooms do when someone important is treated like everyone else.
And Trent had never hated equality more.