“West Haven, but close enough.”

“I’m from right near there,” I said.

“Let me guess,” she said, pausing to stare at me with knowing eyes. “Greenwich.”

I let out a small laugh. “Westport,” I said.

“Same difference.”

I nodded in agreement. She wasn’t wrong. WASPy, affluent, filled with country clubs, popped collars. The towns along Connecticut’s Gold Coast were one and the same.

“So”—I glanced toward her—“why has it been a not-so-great day?”

“Oh my god, where do I even begin?” she moaned.

“From the beginning?” I replied, and she let out big laugh in response. She had the kind of laughter that made you want to join in, be in on whatever joke she was telling. I smiled back at her and felt myself relax, which was odd, because I hadn’t even realized how tense I’d been.

“Okay, so”—she scraped the bottom of her Italian ice cup and dipped the spoon in her mouth one last time—“I had a meeting about a possible design job. A nursery.”

“Seems like something you could do in your sleep,” I said, attempting a compliment.

She gave me a confused look, brow furrowed, as she stopped by a trash can to toss her spoon and cup. “No, it would actually be a pretty big deal.”

“I just assumed you were already swamped with work requests.” Great. I’d insulted her again.

“Right…” She trailed off. “But this nursery job would be a major get for me. So I’m nervous. And then, right after this meeting, I got an email from my landlord about my rent going up.”

Her voice was higher now, agitated.

“Oof.” I brought my hands to my chest in pretend pain.

“Exactly!” she said, her arms open in agreement.

“Well, I believe in you,” I said decidedly. “You’ll get the job, and you’ll figure your rent stuff out.”

She looked at me with a perplexed expression.

“Is that weird to say?” I asked.

Of course it was weird. It was too much, too forward. Once again, I was tripping over my tongue around this woman. I never said stuff like this to Perrine, much less to people I didn’t know.

I stopped at the crosswalk as the cars whizzed by, and when I turned to look at Franny she was smiling. Phew.

“I mean, yeah, because you barely know me,” she said. “But also it’s really what I needed to hear right now. So, no, it’s not. And thank you.”

And then, the bulbous green lights denoting the N and R subway station were in front of us. We walked down the steps side by side.

“You’re going uptown?” she asked.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. I lived uptown, but I had been planning on running home. It felt weird not to be up-front with her, but I really wanted to keep the conversation going.