Martha’s house smelled like cedar and over-steeped tea. The piano sat in the corner of a sun-drenched parlor, looking like a shipwrecked vessel. It was a Hobart M. Cable, its mahogany finish dulled by a century of dust, with ivory keys that looked like weathered teeth.

The listing was titled "1920s Upright - Free to Good Home," a phrase that is both the most beautiful and most dangerous sentence on Craigslist.

"It’s got a solid soul," Elias muttered, tightening a string. "They don't use wood like this anymore."