Milo grinned. ‘We can make that the point. The city learns to listen when everybody sees the hands doing the work.’
Nell examined a drain grate near the back wall. ‘We shouldn’t place the cardboard down here. If it rains, water might gather.’
Harper noted the concern. She appreciated the girl’s practical mind more than she could say.
Tamsin returned with the bicycle shop owner on the telephone. He agreed to let them use the courtyard if the children cleaned up afterward, kept the alley accessible, and stopped by nine. It was the first straightforward yes Harper had heard all week.
They drew a quick floor plan on bakery paper. Sachi suggested using laundry lines strung between two portable frames rather than building a solid screen. Milo would reconstruct the sun. Nell insisted the bird should remain small. The whole point, she said, was that the smallest voice did not have to become enormous to matter.
At noon, Julian Marr called Harper’s phone.
‘I understand you’re planning a competing production,’ he said.
‘It’s the children’s production.’
‘We would prefer not to have confusion surrounding our opening.’
‘Then you should make it clear who created the original materials.’
‘We’ve credited Bellweather Hall in our program.’
‘Bellweather Hall is a building.’
‘Harper, I am trying to offer a reasonable solution. We can invite the children as honored guests on Saturday. I’ll arrange front-row seats and take a photograph with them afterward.’
‘They want to perform.’
‘Our program is set. We cannot suddenly rewrite it around an amateur ensemble.’
‘Then let them perform their own version without interference.’
‘Nobody is preventing them.’ His voice softened. ‘But if families are told that our attraction uses stolen material, we will have to respond. And I imagine you’d rather not discuss the release you signed in public.’
Harper glanced at the courtyard plan. ‘You can discuss anything you like. The children are not accusing you of theft. They’re performing the story they wrote.’
Julian let a silence grow. ‘You have a talent for making your own life difficult.’
‘I’ve had practice,’ Harper replied, and ended the call.
The conversation left her trembling more than she wanted to admit. Her signature was on the release. She had abandoned the hall. A polished organization could reasonably say it had rescued an unsuccessful community project, and plenty of people would believe it. She couldn’t win a contest of press releases. But she could keep her promise to help the children put on a show.
At two she visited the fabric supplier and purchased six yards of inexpensive white cotton. She used the last of the workshop petty cash for reusable clips and black cord. When the clerk asked whether she needed an invoice for a business, Harper almost said no. Then she remembered eleven children voting on a carpet.
