"Does that mean the center can stay?"
Holloway answered carefully.
"It means I'm willing to pursue the version that keeps the programs operating. We still need agreement from the lenders, investors, and your center's representatives."
Nia appreciated the honesty.
He wasn't promising something he couldn't deliver.
He was acknowledging that the work required actual decisions.
She nodded.
"That's a start."
Holloway smiled faintly.
Then looked toward the stage.
For a moment, his expression became distant.
"My daughter used to play piano."
Nia looked surprised.
He continued.
"I missed too many recitals."
His voice softened.
"Thought there would always be another one."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Caroline approached.
She'd heard the last part.
Her expression changed.
"Dad."
Holloway looked toward her.
For a moment, he seemed embarrassed.
Then he said quietly.
"I owe you some apologies too."
Caroline's eyes filled.
She reached for his hand.
And Nia stepped away, allowing the father and daughter a moment that belonged to them.
The revised development agreement took another four months to complete.
There were meetings with lenders, property specialists, community representatives, and construction advisers. Some investors opposed the changes, arguing that the new plan would reduce short-term returns. Others believed a genuine cultural facility could strengthen the long-term value of the development while reducing the risk of community opposition and costly delays.
The discussions weren't simple.
Elaine revised the construction schedule three times.
Holloway's finance team reworked the projections.
And East River Music House's board insisted on understanding exactly what rights the center would retain before accepting any proposal.
Min-jae supported the negotiations, but he didn't ask the nonprofit to surrender its independence in exchange for investment.
He wanted a project capable of surviving without depending entirely on one billionaire's goodwill.
Eventually, the parties developed a workable arrangement.
The music house would continue operating during phased construction, using properly equipped interim space when individual rooms required major repairs. The nonprofit would receive long-term occupancy protections, and a separate funding structure would support essential maintenance and educational programs.
The plan wasn't perfect.
Renovation would be noisy.
Some classes would need temporary schedule changes.
And the center would still depend on careful management to remain financially stable.
But the organization wouldn't be forced to close for two years while waiting for a promised replacement.
Sun-hee reviewed the final documents with the board.
For several hours, they discussed costs, access, program continuity, and the long-term obligations each party would assume.
Then the board approved the agreement.
When Nia heard the result, she was sitting beside Denise at the kitchen table.