“Thank you.” Felicia turned, smiling softly and extending her hands toward him. Scott enfolded hers in his, squeezing them. “But no, I want to spend some time with her before I grade papers. Although she always loves to hear you play. It's been a while since you did that, Scott. Maybe you could bring your guitar with you sometime this week.”

“I’ll do that,” he agreed. His mother had been responsible for him first picking up the instrument. She’d found a battered acoustic Fender ...