Free Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) by Liza O'Connor

Harold several blinks of his eyes before he could speak. “I do apologize, my dear. But you have to understand how it looks when a freshman is given one of twelve highly coveted grants.”
    A woman in the row behind them slapped Harold on the shoulder with her rolled program. “If you had bothered to come to one of her recitals, you would understand exactly why she obtained a grant,” the old woman declared, then smiled at Amanda.
    “I’m Mrs. Wilson, Dr. Wilson’s wife,” she explained, and extended her hand.
    “Mrs. Wilson, I’m so sorry if I’ve caused your husband any trouble. I wasn’t even aware such a rumor was going around. Had I known, I would have given up my grant immediately.”
    “You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Wilson said. “What you’ll do is go to Europe and return so well-trained that you enter your professional career and prove Sam correct in sending you now. That is the only way you will ever stop old gossips like these two!”
    “Then I’ll do just that,” she promised the woman, and turned around in her seat. The popular man on her left handed her his card. “When you return from Europe, give me a call, Miss Carrington. Unlike my esteemed friends to your right, I have attended your recitals. You are, without a doubt, the best vocalist this college has ever produced. Dr. Wilson is correct to send you now because you will unquestionably begin your professional career upon your return. So, fortunately, you will never have the chance to dull your talent with mathematics.”
    Harold looked as if he was going to respond, but the lights blinked and an announcement warned everyone to turn off their phones and that no recording devices or photographs were allowed.
    Amanda suspected she was somehow breaking all those rules, but she didn’t want to be alone with a bunch of people who seemed to think they knew her better than she knew herself.
    “You handled that very well,” Adam said, and followed it with a reminder not to speak.
    She smiled and stared at the business card in her hand. It presented the man’s name—Jules Bavard—and his contact information, but didn’t state his title or profession.
    “He’s very vain and believes if an artist doesn’t know who he is, then the person is not worthy of his representation. In fairness, he is considered to have one of the finest ears in music, and anyone he represents will succeed. Do not lose his card. When you return from Europe, you will need to let him know you valued his interest enough that you kept it.” 
    Amanda smiled and tucked the card safely into her purse, just as the recital began. The first to play were the young, scholarship musicians, and Amanda wondered which musician was Andrew’s son, for over half were black males.
    “Cello in the middle,” Adam replied.
    She wanted to ask him how he’d known what she was thinking, but then realized he had basically been born in her thoughts, so it was perfectly natural he could correctly predict what her brain would ponder.
    When they finished, she stood up and applauded enthusiastically. She was very annoyed by all the seated people around her. The young students were superb. They deserved a standing ovation. She was pleased to see that other than the dead weights in the center, most people stood and gave them their due. She glanced back, trying to find Andrew.
    “Andrew is in the balcony, first row, left side.”
    She spied Andrew, with tears streaming down his face, applauding his son.
    She sat down as the youngsters left and the next set of musicians entered. These were students from the music program, some of whom she recognized from Dr. Branson’s musical theory class. Yet to her ear, while more precise, they lacked the passion of the young musicians. When they’d finished, she applauded but did not stand.
    Jules leaned toward her and spoke over the applause. “I see you have an ear for quality, or the lack thereof.”
    “I thought the young musicians quite