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Istared at the bigbuilding in his backyard. I'd assumed it was a guest house, but when he unlocked it, I saw it for what it really was. “You have your own private recording studio, right here on your property?”

“Yup. My dad liked to have the option to come out and work if something struck him in the middle of the night.” He walked over to the booth and began fiddling with the knobs. “I probably should've let you know about this sooner. With everything else going on, it slipped my mind.”

I was too amazed to be upset by the fact this had been in my backyard. “This is amazing. Seriously amazing. If I owned one of these, you wouldn't be able to pry me out of it. I’d be sleeping in here.”

“Dad did that sometimes too.” He said it softly, his eyes becoming hooded. “Can I ask you something?” I gave a quick nod. “Why did you pickWhispersfor your audition?”

I’d expected this question days ago. “I wanted to impress you. That was the first thing on my mind. I thought singing something by your dad would earn me brownie points. But beyond that, the song is very important to me. All the music that your dad sang helped me get through some hard times. It really resonated with me. God, you’re so lucky to have grown up with him. I'm super jealous.”

He kept looking at the booth, adjusting switches back and forth. The longer the silence stretched the more paranoid I became that I’d upset him. “Bach?”

“Do you need anything to get ready?” he asked, waving at the booth. “Otherwise, it's all set for you. Go inside and I'll be right here, recording your every word.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

He gave me a weak smile. “Of course not. I'm just tired. Go on, get in there. Hearing you sing will give me energy.”

I was sure he was lying, but I didn't know how to make him talk.It’s not your job to be his therapist,I reminded myself.It’s your job to make music.

That was why I was here.

That was what I had to think about.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the booth and reached for the microphone.