An envelope bearing the seal of Juilliard, still pristine and unsullied by a letter opener, sat atop Schroeder's piano. Within that envelope contained either an acceptance or a rejection to the conservatory. Until it was opened, Schroeder's future hung in the balance.

Lucy was sick of looking at it.

It had arrived at the Felton household two days prior. Mrs. Felton had nearly rushed her son as he walked in the door after school that day with the letter in her hand, urging him to open it, but the moment he'd seen the school's name, he felt sick with anxiety. It had been sitting on his upright ever since.

The longer it sat there, the worse Schroeder became. This afternoon, he had dared to glance at the stupid thing during a round of Moonlight Sonata, and it caused him to miss a note. In Moonlight Sonata. It was unheard of for him to make mistakes with any Beethoven pieces anymore, much less with one of his most-played compositions.

Clearly, Lucy figured, something had to be done.

She was sitting with him after school, her head on his shoulder as she listened to him play some dirge that suited the tense mood. A sigh escaped her. She had her own college woes, but they could be pushed aside for now; she had already been accepted to all eight Ivy League colleges. It was just a matter of choosing which one to attend. (She had taken no small pleasure in leaving each acceptance letter open on the kitchen table for her mother to come across.)

Her plan was to pick whichever one was closest to Schroeder. He had applied to a few other music schools in addition to Juilliard, even though they weren't his first choice – but if he went to Curtis, she would go to the University of Pennsylvania, and if he went to Berklee, she would go to Harvard. And if he made it into Juilliard, she would accept Columbia's admission. It was as simple as that.

She hadn't told him this yet, because it would just worry him more, but to her, an Ivy League was an Ivy League. She had already made it into all eight of her dream schools. She just hoped her boyfriend made it into his one.

Lucy eyed the letter again. "Schroeder, if you don't open that stupid letter yourself, I will."

She expected him to fight back, but he just sighed in kind. "You might have to. I don't know if I can do it."

"What are you so afraid of? What makes you think you won't get in?"

"It's Juilliard."

"You did great at your audition, didn't you?"

Schroeder and his mother had flown to New York City several weekends ago solely for that Juilliard audition. He wouldn't talk about it much, but according to Mrs. Felton's gushing, Beethoven couldn't have delivered a better performance of Hammerklavier himself. Every time she bought it up, her son turned red as a cherry, much to Lucy's amusement.

"I guess, but they can't accept everyone."

"But you won't know until you look."

"But if I never look, I can never be rejected."

"Oh, for God's sake." She snatched the envelope and began unceremoniously ripping it open with her fingers.

He startled and covered his eyes with both his hands.

She groaned at him. "Augh, stop being such a baby!"

He just groaned back.

Lucy pulled the fancy, cream-colored letter out and scanned it, looking for keywords that signaled one result or the other.

It only took her a single moment of dealing with Schroeder's anxious moaning – the letter opened with the word "Congratulations!" and the rest was self-evident.

She grinned from ear to ear. He had been accepted.

She shook his arm frantically. "Look! Look!"

He shook his head stubbornly. "I can't do it!"

"It's good news, you blockhead!"

"Really?" His shaking hands dropped and he looked at the paper like a lost puppy. "Really?" he repeated.

Lucy handed the acceptance letter to him. "Really! You made it."

Schroeder looked at the text in half disbelief, half elation. A smile slowly began to creep its way across his face.

"I told you you could do it!" She reached her arms around his frame and hugged him tight.

He dropped the letter on the piano keys and returned her embrace. If they had been standing, he might have lifted her off her feet and twirled her around.

Lucy had never seen Schroeder this excited before. It was contagious.

With an enthusiastic kiss to both her left and right cheeks, he grabbed her face in his hands. "Run home and call the Columbia admissions office, sweet baby, cause it's settled. We're moving to New York."

Lucy smiled at him like an idiot for a few seconds before realizing what he said. "Wait, how'd you know I was gonna do that?"

"I know you, Lucy. You were gonna pick whatever school was closest to mine."

"Is that part of why you were worried?"

"Not a big part, but a little. I didn't want you to be left hanging."

"I'm not worried about my degree. I know I'm all set in that department no matter what. I can study communications anywhere. I just figured if you happened to attend a college that was close to mine, it would simply be a nice bonus."

"Well, we both got a nice bonus, then. Funny how that worked out."

She kissed his nose. A time-honored tradition.

He smiled at her again. "After you call Columbia, call the operator and ask for classifieds in New York City. Write down some options. Make sure our apartment has room for my piano, okay? I'll start writing my response letter and looking at job listings."

Our apartment. Our apartment. Lucy could have died happy right then and there.

She had never before wanted to stay with him and kiss him over and over and over more than she did right then, but she had also never before left his company so gleefully. "I'll call you later, Mr. Juilliard!"