Laura looked at the small, slender young woman in the fifties fit-and-flare dress and immediately worried they weren’t going to get on. Nina was the kind of hip, geek-chic girl who’d looked over her vintage-framed glasses in high school and made Laura feel oversized and clumsy. “Sorry,” said Laura, “I probably should have introduced myself before asking about your wrist, but I’m training to be a physical therapist and a cast always catches my eye.” She dropped her gaze to underline her nonthreatening status and immediately started being jealous of Nina’s shoes, which were small and beaded. She had always wished she were “quirky” enough to wear vintage clothes, but she’d never been able to pull it off.

Nina looked mollified. “Well, I’m sorry for leaping to the conclusion that you were a health insurance spy.”

“That’s a thing?” asked Polly, whose expression suggested she was imagining something far more exciting than the reality.

Nina looked strangely pleased to answer. “Are you kidding? Insurance fraud—not counting health insurance—costs the industry over forty billion dollars a year. Health insurance fraud on its own is more like seventy billion.” Nina raised her eyebrows. “And while life insurance dates back to the burial societies of ancient Greece and Rome, we also have evidence of insurance fraud dating back to the first century AD, which, if you think about it—”

“Enough trivia chatter,” interrupted Liz, “I need tea.”

•   •   •

Ten minutes later Nina still hadn’t explained how she’d hurt herself. To be fair, that ten minutes had been taken up by Laura explaining about the fire, the apartment, the job . . . but Nina had made the tea left-handed without spilling, so Laura estimated she’d been in the cast at least a month.

“Thanks,” Laura said, taking the tea. “But seriously, how did you fracture your wrist? I really want to know.” She was sitting on a table at the back of the office, having politely asked the cat to move. The cat was beyond peevish by that point, and Liz had to intervene and give up her chair.

Nina rolled her eyes and said, “It’s a super-boring story. I slipped getting out of the shower and my hand slid into the base of the toilet and bent the wrong way. Very elegant. The slapping sound of my wet butt cheeks hitting the tile will be the sound effect for every embarrassment I ever experience from here on out. It sounded like someone thwacking a porpoise with a flyswatter.”