Joan finished her iced tea quickly and a waiter brought her another. After she finished that one in two big sips, she declined a third. Her bones were already jumping within her skin.

Joan saw Vanessa’s car pull up at the front entry. She stood up, as if to greet her, then felt silly and sat back down.

Vanessa got out of her car, put the top up, and then handed the valet her keys.

As Vanessa walked through the revolving door, she did not see Joan. And so Joan waited, watching Vanessa walk toward the reception desk to check in. Vanessa smiled at the woman behind the counter. And then, as the woman looked up Vanessa’s name in the records, Vanessa scanned the lobby and her eyes landed on Joan. Vanessa’s entire face lit up. She took the hotel key from the receptionist and walked toward Joan.

“Hi,” she said when she got near.

“Hi.”

Joan tried to hide her smile, but it just kept opening up across her face.

“Should we drop off our bags in the room?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Joan grabbed hers and walked alongside Vanessa toward the elevators.

Joan simply could not stop smiling. She kept thinking about when Frances was four or so and got really into what she called “playing tricks.” She would throw a blanket over herself or hide under the bed with both legs dangling out and Joan would say, “Jeez, I wonder where Frances went.” And Frances would giggle, as if she was doing the funniest, most daring thing anyone had ever done. If the giant blob the size and shape of Frances under the blanket or the dangling legs didn’t give it away, Frances’s gleeful laugh certainly would have. But Frances could not contain her joy.

That’s how Joan felt now.

How did people do this? How did they go through every single day with this kind of excitement inside them? How how how how how. Poor Donna. Having to hide this for so long. It was the single greatest feeling Joan had ever felt.

The elevator doors opened and Joan was relieved to see that the car was empty. When the doors closed, Joan hoped desperately that Vanessa would rush toward her. Instead, Vanessa reached her hand out and grabbed Joan’s softly, as if they had held hands thousands of times before. It was so casual in its affection that for a sweet, soft moment, Joan felt light-headed.

But then the elevator stopped on the mezzanine level and Vanessa let go of her hand just as easily as she’d grabbed it. A woman in a Chanel suit got into the elevator.

“Oh, my,” the woman said as the doors closed. “I meant to go to the lobby.”