Harper was fastening a cloth edge when Julian Marr arrived.
He wore jeans instead of his blazer, which somehow made the visit feel more deliberate. Two staff members waited at the courtyard entrance. Julian walked slowly around the worktables, examining the children’s props. He paused near Nell’s bird.
‘Beautiful,’ he said.
Nell put down her paintbrush. ‘Thank you.’
‘I wanted to speak with Harper.’
‘You can speak where we can hear,’ Nell said.
Julian’s smile thinned. ‘Very well.’
He announced that Brightline was prepared to add the names of all the Open Door participants to its printed program. It would provide complimentary tickets, display a group photograph, and offer a fifteen-minute curtain call at the end of Saturday’s performance. In exchange, he requested that the independent performance be postponed until after Brightline’s opening weekend.
‘Why?’ Sachi asked.
‘Because we have devoted considerable resources to making this attraction successful. Two productions of similar material on the same evening may confuse families.’
‘We’re not the same production,’ Kieran answered.
‘Of course. I mean the shared visual language.’
‘You mean our buildings,’ Milo said.
Julian faced Harper. ‘Could we discuss this privately?’
‘You made the offer to everyone,’ she said. ‘They can answer it.’
The children gathered in a half circle. Harper could see their confusion. They wanted their names acknowledged. Some wanted to watch their old sets in a professional theater. Others did not trust the offer. Nell asked whether they would be allowed to speak during the curtain call.
‘We can arrange a brief thank-you,’ Julian replied.
‘Can we explain the ending we wrote?’
‘The evening’s schedule is quite full.’
‘Can we bring our own bird?’
‘It would depend on safety and sightline requirements.’
‘Can we say we don’t like your ending?’ Milo asked.
Julian inhaled slowly. ‘That would be discourteous to the cast and production staff.’
Nell folded her arms. ‘Then it’s not our curtain call.’
Harper watched the older children nod. Chloe stepped forward, surprising her father.
‘You can put our names in your program,’ Chloe told Julian. ‘That would be fair. But you can’t buy our show with front-row seats.’
Victor’s eyes widened. He said nothing.
Julian considered the group for several seconds. He had likely expected Harper to accept the offer out of relief. Instead he was facing eleven people who had spent the morning deciding how many cardboard citizens could fit through a moving door. They understood compromise, but they also understood when a compromise required them to disappear.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ he said.
‘We don’t feel one way,’ Sachi corrected. ‘We voted.’
