“You know,” she began and stopped to reconsider as she stubbed her cigarette. “Ronni, did it ever occur to you I let you go so you could have a decent life? I didn’t know anything about takin’ care of a kid. I was mostly a kid myself when you was little. You turned out all right. You still workin’ in some nursin’ home?”

“How do you know where I work?” I looked to Deanna, who shrugged.

“Your boyfriend, that’s how. Came by here in his cop car months ago, like he was checking up on me. Like he was seein’ if I was worthy of you findin’ and talkin’ to. I told him to please bring you, but he never did. Anyway, I’m real proud of you, bein’ a nurse and all.” She looked genuinely impressed.

I started babbling like I always do under the pressure of a compliment. “Well, I’m not an RN. I’m an LPN. I’m good at my job though, and I make a difference in the lives of lots of people.” Sheesh. It’s not like she asked you to look at a mole, Ronni.

She offered me the same crooked yellow smile and a wave of pity washed over me. She was such a sad case, such a loss. And maybe it wasn’t my loss; it was her own. I was just fine. I glanced over at Deanna. Was this what she had planned? Not a reunion, but a reminder of the place I’d made for myself in the world despite my mother’s absence? I didn’t feel angry anymore.

Deanna said, “So, what do you do these days, Jocelyn?”

“Oh, not much. I get my check from the state on accounta my disability. I have a bad back. I worked answering phones at a used car lot for a while, but I couldn’t take sittin’ in a chair all day. ‘Specially without any medicine for it, you know.” She nodded as though we needed to sympathize. I didn’t have it in me. She looked long and hard at Deanna. “When you called me up, you didn’t say, but I’m figurin’ you’re the one who adopted Ronni.”

All I could think was: You didn’t even know. You obviously never tried to find out.

“No,” Deanna said. “I’d be incredibly proud to claim Ronni as mine, but I’m only a friend. I’m visiting from Florida.”

This seemed to capture Jocelyn’s attention. “Where in Florida? I love Panama City. I love any beach anywhere. I’d rather be bakin’ in the sun with the waves lappin’ on the shore than anything.”

“I live in Palmetto,” Deanna answered, “not on the beach. We’re about an hour south of Tampa on the west coast.”

Jocelyn laughed. “Close enough for me. I’ll just have to come visit you, won’t I?”