Dr. Rosetti was quiet for a long moment. She was thinking about something important.
"Maya," she said finally, "what you played tonight was not just good. It was exceptional. You have a rare gift that most musicians would die for. But talent like yours needs to be nurtured and protected. It needs proper training and practice."
Maya nodded sadly. "I know. But I don't have anywhere to practice. I don't have a piano. I don't have money for lessons. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm forgetting everything my father taught me."
Dr. Rosetti leaned forward. "What if I told you that you don't have to worry about those things anymore?"
Maya looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Dr. Rosetti said slowly, "that I would like to help you. I have a house with a piano. I have connections in the music world. Most importantly, I have experience helping young musicians develop their talents."
Maya stared at Dr. Rosetti. "You want to help me? But you don't even know me."
"I know enough," Dr. Rosetti said firmly. "I know that you have extraordinary talent. I know that you've been through terrible hardships, but haven't given up on music. I know that your father would be proud of how well you played tonight."
Maya felt her heart beating fast. Could this really be happening? Could someone actually want to help her?
"What kind of help?" Maya asked carefully. She had learned to be suspicious of adults who promised too much.
Dr. Rosetti smiled. "First, you need a safe place to live. I have a guest room in my house that's been empty for years; you could stay there. Second, you need a piano to practice on; I have a beautiful grand piano that hardly gets used anymore. Third, you need to get back to serious musical training; I still have connections at several conservatories."
Maya felt dizzy. This seemed too good to be true. "But why would you do this for me? What do you want in return?"