Joan wasn’t sure what to say, but Vanessa spoke up first: “Listen to me, kiddo. For some people, childhood is the best part of their lives, and later, all they are trying to do is go back to it. But for people like us, it’s different. The good part hasn’t started yet. But it’s coming. It’s just ahead, when your life is in your own hands and, listen to me, you are going to soar.”

Frances leaned forward. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Vanessa said. “I can see it in you.”

“Do you think I could be an astronaut?” Frances asked.

“If you want, baby girl,” Vanessa said. “You may just land on the moon.”

Joan spent all of her time when she wasn’t training for her mission taking shifts in Mission Control.

It was the highlight of her days and nights.

She loved the hum of the room, getting to know the engineers at each console. It was like being surrounded by mission specialists. All nerds, no cowboys.

But it also meant she’d been packing her schedule too tight. After work tonight, she had to drop Frances’s books off at Barbara’s, and she was already late to meet Donna and Griff.

They were supposed to meet at the bar, and while Joan did not particularly want to go, she felt needed. She had to be there to order a club soda and then let Donna swap it for her vodka and tonics. That way Donna could seem like she was drinking and no one would pick up on the fact that she was almost six months pregnant. Vanessa and Joan were the only ones at NASA who knew other than Hank.

Surprisingly, Donna wasn’t showing much. It was certainly concealable in a flight suit or a baggy shirt. Which was good. Because the moment the higher-ups at NASA learned she was pregnant, they were going to restrict what Donna could do, even if there was no medical reason for it.

Namely, they wouldn’t let her fly in the T-38s anymore, which meant she wouldn’t qualify for missions until after she had the baby. Donna getting pregnant was going to directly and indirectly ensure that she did not get assigned to a crew for years. Meanwhile, Hank was going up in less than six months.

Joan really wanted to get to the bar in time to order Donna’s drink. It felt like an honor to be trusted with such a secret, and she wanted to come through. But she was already running late when Barbara pulled her into the formal living room to have a “chat.”

“What is it, Barb?” Joan said. She did not sit down.

“Please sit,” Barbara said, sitting down on a white leather upholstered sofa in front of a glass coffee table.

Joan sat.

“I owe you an apology for something.”