"I didn't know I was meeting him."
Sun-hee studied her.
Then smiled.
"I thought so."
She embraced Nia.
For a moment, the younger woman felt like she was fourteen again, standing outside a classroom with a language workbook pressed against her chest.
Then Sun-hee whispered.
"I'm proud of you."
Nia felt tears gathering.
She was beginning to think that one of the hardest parts of the past twenty-four hours was learning to accept kindness without apologizing for it.
Min-jae arrived at East River Music House on Monday afternoon.
He wore a dark jacket, no tie, and comfortable shoes rather than the expensive formal clothing he'd worn at Haneul. Two advisers accompanied him, but he asked them to remain unobtrusive and allow the staff to explain the center's work without staging a presentation.
Nia met him outside.
For several seconds, he studied the building.
Then smiled.
"It looks nothing like Holloway's brochure."
Nia laughed.
"No."
He glanced toward the mural.
"Is that a problem?"
She considered the question.
"Only if you expect a building to look more important than the people using it."
Min-jae nodded.
They entered together.
Inside, a group of children was rehearsing a simple musical arrangement.
The sound wasn't perfect.
One violinist was slightly ahead.
A young drummer kept losing the tempo.
And the pianist stopped twice to correct a passage.
But the students were concentrating.
Learning.
And laughing whenever someone made a mistake.
Min-jae watched silently.
Then he looked toward Nia.
"How many children come here?"
She explained that attendance varied, but the center served dozens each week through structured programs and additional community events.
Several classes were free.
Others used sliding-scale fees.
And volunteer teachers made it possible for families with limited resources to participate.
The businessman nodded.
Then asked about the proposed relocation.
Sun-hee brought out the correspondence.
The temporary site was smaller.
Transportation would be difficult for several families.
And the center had received no binding guarantee that all its programs could continue during construction.
Min-jae studied the records carefully.
For a moment, he looked angry.
Then asked whether the building itself could be renovated instead of demolished.
Sun-hee hesitated.
"That's what we've been asking for."
The Korean businessman looked toward the ceiling.
The plaster had cracks.
Some repairs were clearly necessary.
But the structure didn't appear beyond improvement.
He turned toward his advisers.
"I want an independent assessment."
Then he looked at Nia.
"Before I invest a dollar, I want to understand the alternatives."
Grant Holloway learned about the visit within hours.