Lena kissed the top of her head. "I know you do, baby."
Charles stood up from his chair. "Then I will have my office contact you with times for the school and dance evaluations. You will personally meet every instructor before any contract is finalized. If you don't approve of them, we find others."
Lena looked up at him as she stood. "You're not used to people saying 'no' to you, are you, Mr. Whitmore?"
"No," he said candidly. "But I am actively learning."
She held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a single nod. "All right. We'll see."
It wasn't gratitude, and it wasn't complete trust, but it was no longer a refusal. And for now, in that quiet Madison Street studio with the mirrors, the old piano, and the late afternoon light falling across the scuffed wooden floor, that was enough to keep the door open.
---
The first dance evaluation was held two weeks later in a professional studio that smelled faintly of resin, old wood, and intense effort. Annie stood near the center of the wide floor in her blue dress again. Lena had almost chosen a regular set of clothes that morning, but Annie had been certain: "This is my dancing dress now, Mama." And Lena had not had the heart to override the clarity in her voice.
The instructor, a tall woman in her late thirties named Caroline Pierce, watched Annie with a professional stillness that made Lena more nervous than open excitement would have. Caroline did not deploy a baby voice, she did not smile excessively, and she did not look at Annie like a charity case. She looked at her like work.
*"That's a good sign,"* Margaret had noted when Lena told her about the appointment. *"You don't want someone who thinks your kid is just adorable. You want someone who thinks your kid is serious."*
Caroline clapped her hands together once, a sharp sound. "All right, Annie. I'm not going to teach you any choreography today. I just want to see exactly how your body moves when it encounters music. Can you do that for me?"
Annie nodded once.
Charles and Judge Mercer sat in metal chairs against the far wall, remaining completely silent. Lena sat a little apart from them, her fingers locked together so tightly her knuckles were white. She was still entirely un-adapted to being in rooms where adults discussed her daughter's physical development like a project with timelines.