Ari shook her head; it felt like she had anticipated this question. “No angles. Like I said, I have a few clients who’d like to see her jammed up. But otherwise this info is yours, free. Do what you’d like with it.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it.

“I hope this helps bring you in from the cold,” she said. “I’ll be in touch. And of course, I’ll tell Atlas you said hello.”

Then she was gone with a hug that I couldn’t quite make it out of my seat to reciprocate. I sat at our table, phone in hand, trying Bo again and again until he answered. Miles was currently in Annapolis, Bo said, with the Chesapeake Bay people, oyster and watermen, the nonprofit folks, representatives from the Corps of Engineers. The meeting was getting heated; best not to disturb. But Miles would be back in the office tomorrow. At last, a time was set to see me.

After she was done with work, Wallis met Cricket and me on the corner of Connecticut and Q. “An evening with my girls,” she said, hugging us both, more buoyant than I’d seen her in days. “This is just what I needed.” The perfume she wore to the office was light, touches of lily and citrus.

“What a treat,” agreed Cricket, who’d been more than willing to join.

“I thought we could all use it,” I said, happy to be out, together, in the spring. As we walked together north, away from the traffic swirling around Dupont Circle, I took a moment to enjoy the daffodils and hyacinth sprouting in planters along the sidewalks, and the budding canopy of green leaves and delicate white flowers. “The restaurant is just up here.” I’d read the reviews. Five stars. Try the crispy brussels sprouts and handmade rigatoni, people said. A splurge, but I’d assured myself a paycheck was forthcoming.

Tomorrow I would be getting my job back. I feel it in my bones, my father used to say. This is how optimistic people carried themselves all the time—what a wonder! I was light on my toes. Feeling celebratory, I’d even curled my hair. The big ringlets had unraveled almost immediately, but still! It had bounce!

When we arrived at our destination, a converted Georgian townhome, Wallis stopped short. “This?” she said, calm, one hand extended toward the restaurant. “This is the place you picked for dinner?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously, smile tight. “Is it bad?”

“Are all these people waiting for a table?” Cricket crossed her arms as she eyed the patrons sitting on the townhome’s stoop and wrought-iron benches. “You know I don’t like eating past eight.”

“Blake and I ate here. It ended up being the last night we were together before—”

Good grief. Leave it to Blake Darley to sneeze over everything fun in this town.