“And yet,” she said, “I’m here.”

I said, “I’d like to help you.”

She said, “With what?”

Thinking of Holly Ruche, I said, “Owning your life. Finally.”

“Really?” she said, as if finding that humorous.

Then she cried.

I supplied a box of tissues and a bottle of water. She dabbed, drank. I waited for her questions.

The first one she asked surprised me. “What do you think of my tribe?”

“They seem like a great bunch.”

“Four gems, Dr. Delaware. Four flawless diamonds. I’m not taking credit but at least I didn’t screw them up.”

“Prema, a friend of mine says happiness comes from taking all the credit and none of the blame.”

She clapped her hands. “I love that … but sometimes it’s hard to separate blame from credit, isn’t it? To know what’s real and what isn’t. Back when I was a public person, people who’d never met me had opinions about everything I did. One day I was a goddess, the next I was evil incarnate.”

“Celebrity’s all about love-hate,” I said, thinking, as I had a hundred times over the last few days, of the venomous contempt expressed by Brent Dorf, Kevin Dubinsky. Len Coates, who should have known better, because he’d been trained to analyze facts not rumors, had never laid eyes on her.

None of them had.

She said, “I’m not complaining, it’s part of the game. But I used to wonder where all that crap was coming from. People so sure. Alleged experts accusing me of swooping into orphanages at random, bribing officials so I could walk away with the cutest babies. As if building a family was as simple as choosing strays at the pound. Or, worse, I raided Third World villages with a private army and stole infants from poor people.”

Speaking in the singular.

She hugged herself. “True reality is I went through channels, got screened. Had the kids screened, too, because I’m not that selfless, forget all that sainthood crap they’ve also tried to lay on me—stupid diplomats at the U.N. making like I’m Mother Teresa. I’m a mother, small ‘m.’ Didn’t want an incurably sick baby or a mentally challenged baby. Didn’t want to be surprised by bad news. Does that offend you?”

“Not at all.”

“I mean I was willing to deal with whatever came up naturally, but why make life harder than it needs to be?”

“Makes sense.”

“I mean there’s no reason not to make your life as good as it can be, right? To feel worthy of happiness.”