Hannah, seated next to Kira’s son, Beau, at the sidewalk café, turned to him somewhat shyly. She’d only seen him in person once before, when he’d been one or two years old, and since that time, obviously, he’d changed. He didn’t look much like Kira. She had a wiry build and wispy brown hair, which she kept cut short; he was little but sturdy, with wild curls, dark brown at the roots, lightening to a sun-kissed bronze at the ends of the springy coils. Hannah tried to recall the appearance of Kira’s husband, Daniel, but she’d seen him only in photographs.

Sensing her interest, Beau smiled at her, revealing a dimpled cheek. “Which friend are you?” he asked politely.

“I’m Hannah,” she said. “I live in California and I’m an ob-gyn.” Oops. Would a little boy have the faintest glimmer of the field of obstetrics and gynecology? Probably not. “That means I’m a doctor for ladies and I deliver their babies,” she added.

“Did you always know you would be a doctor?”

For an instant, she considered a rote answer, but something about his solemn posture and candid little face convinced her not to soften the truth. “No,” she said. “My father died when I was about your age. It was hard, the worst thing I could have imagined. But there was a man, a brain surgeon at the hospital, who spent quite a lot of time talking to me and my brother about what was happening. He was a big, funny guy—the opposite of me—but he had a way of looking right into our eyes and calming us down. He gave us comfort and understanding when we were terrified and confused. He used his expertise—his special skills—to try to save my dad. He couldn’t do it, in the end, but I was aware he was one of the only people who could have even tried. And I loved the idea that there were people whose job was to save other people, or console them, or take away their pain. So from then on I knew that I wanted to do that too.”

“Did you try to be a brain doctor?”

Hannah smiled. “No. That wasn’t for me. I love children. I love bringing them into the world and taking care of their mommies.”

Beau nodded. “That sounds wonderful. I bet you love it.”

“I do,” she said, relieved he wasn’t grossed out. “It’s usually a very happy job.” She hurried on before he could ask what she meant by usually. “Do you like babies?”

Beau appeared to be giving his answer consideration before he spoke. Despite the dimples and the round cheeks and the glorious springy hair, he gave off the serious aura of one who pays careful attention to his environment and the impact of his own actions; he was the antithesis of impulsive. Now, that would be like his mom. Kira was famously intolerant of superstition and intuition, she noted minutiae that seemed to slide by most people, and she had zero tolerance for people who asserted opinion as fact. Along with Emma, their friend in Charlotte, she was the most logical person Hannah had ever known.