They walked down Fifth Avenue, chatting about the museum and how they really should have gone before, although truth be told, Mark was rather glad that his first introduction to the MMA was with Dani.

Approaching a good-looking, unknown woman had never been part of Mark’s MO. For that matter, he’d never done it until today. But today, he’d needed a break from everything. As of this morning, he’d had another flop of an audition, racked up with all the others he’d thought had gone so well but had still yielded rejections.

So he’d tucked his oboe case into his backpack then headed to the park. His original intention was to get away from the City, and the park was about the best he could do without actually leaving the island. He missed his family’s house back in Cold Spring, with its aging shade trees, green bushes, and flowers in a thousand varieties and colors. They’d be in their prime about now, mid-June: after budding and blooming but before the weather got too hot.

Dani talked about her home in Illinois, a town much different from one he’d ever lived in, surely. He couldn’t quite imagine what living in the Midwest would be like, with its rolling plains and cornfields.

“I’m glad I came to New York,” she said. “But I do miss home.”

Mark found himself nodding. “I totally get that.” He missed home too, in a lot of ways. He didn’t want to go back, though, not until he had something to show for his efforts. This morning, he’d failed again. He’d come to the park — and then to the museum — to shake off the voice of his father, which always set up shop and lived in his head, whispering about how he’d failed again and always would be a loser.

Oboe performance? Really, son? That’s ridiculous. Don’t go studying music and then, when you can’t support yourself, come limping home, expecting to stay in your old room.

In some ways, his father had a point, Mark supposed. Had he picked one of the STEM majors, he could have been making money at some big technology company or something by now instead of serving tables, eking out a living, barely able to pay rent, always hoping that the next audition was the one. He managed to make ends meet by playing freelance gigs like weddings and corporate parties, sometimes on the piccolo or bassoon — instruments he could play that weren’t as common.

He’d walked past several groups of children at various statues, and as they’d played tag around the figures in the Alice in Wonderland statue, he’d noticed the magic in their eyes that always seemed accompany children’s play.

Just as Mark’s doubts had come to a crescendo, he’d left the park and reached the sidewalk. Instead of hailing a cab as intended, he’d spotted Dani at the base of the stairs. She’d stood there, looking up at the museum as if it held some last scrap of hope for her. That expression was exactly how he felt.

It was also why he’d suddenly found himself walking up to her and acting so entirely out of his comfort zone. If she brushed him off, so be it; he’d go inside and visit the museum alone. If he got to meet that beautiful woman on top of it all, so much the better.

The worst that could happen was being rejected, right? And that had already happened today. So he’d gone over and found himself talking to a perfect stranger — and connecting with her so completely in almost no time at all. The beautiful woman had turned out to be intelligent and witty and fun and so much more.

Now, as they walked down the street, he couldn’t believe that two hours before, they’d never laid eyes on each other. He glanced down, where her arms swayed with each step. Their hands were so close that they might as well be touching. He could slip his hand around hers without much trouble … but how would she react?

And why did he suddenly care so much about that?

“We really should go back there someday,” he said, breaking the silence that had consumed them both for the last moment or two.

She nodded but then shrugged. “I doubt I ever will.” Her voice held a tinge of melancholy.

Never go back to the museum now that they’d just experienced a taste of? That made no sense. He stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change. “I thought you liked it.”

“Oh, I did. A lot. And I’d love to see every last piece of art in there. If E. L. Konigsburg’s book is accurate, there’s a whole section with antique furniture.” She smiled dreamily. “I’d like to see it and imagine sleeping in one of those beds like the kids in her book. Have you read it?”

“I read about Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and her mixed-up files over and over again in fourth grade. Even did an oral book report about it,” Mark said. “I heard that the gift shop sells copies of the book. Maybe we’ll make it that far another time.” He left the idea hanging in the air, hoping she’d pick up on it and give him the chance to see her again. Maybe let him buy her a souvenir on their second date to remind her of their sort-of first date. And maybe they’d arrange more dates. Together, they could see the whole museum — and then experience other parts of the city neither had seen yet.

But then the signal changed, and Dani headed across the street without answering. Mark followed, but he wasn’t about to be swayed by her attempt to dodge the topic.

“So, Dani … why won’t you go back?” he asked, catching up to her through the push of the lunch crowd.

They walked down the street again, but she stopped and looked at a store. Mark had been paying so much attention to her and his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed where they were until she’d stopped: the legendary FAO Schwarz toy store.

She pointed at the glass doors, where a man wearing a toy soldier’s uniform “guarded” the entrance. “Ever been in there?” Her voice wasn’t as strong as before. Something was bothering her, and Mark was determined to find out what.

“A few times, but not recently,” he said. “Let’s go in and walk around. It’s pretty cool.”

“Nah. I’m good, thanks.” She shook her head and kept walking, heading away from the park, toward Madison Avenue.

Maybe she was tired of his company or thought he was a “creeper,” as his roommate Brian’s girlfriend called guys who made her skin crawl. Should he let her walk off alone? Say good-bye? Not without getting her number.

With determination, Mark strode along in step with her. “Let’s get some lunch at that hot dog place I told you about. It’s just a few blocks away,” he said with a southeastward nod. “On me.”

At last Dani slowed from her quick steps to a stroll and then stopped altogether, seeming to consider his offer. “Of course. Sorry I’m distracted. I really am starving.”

Mark led the way, and while he was enjoying himself, walking along with a pretty, smart girl, he could sense that her mood had continued to shift. And he was quite sure that it wasn’t only because she needed lunch.