Cricket was right. Wallis would be helping to safeguard women’s breasts and uteruses, though I couldn’t overlook the fact that nonprofits in this town pay almost nothing. Less-than-federal-government nothing, and that’s saying something.

“You’re going to kill it,” Blake said, displaying no concern at all that his girlfriend was going to work at a place his mother fought every year to defund.

“I’m so happy for you.” And I was. Our family had been accused of many things, but selling out would not be one of them. “Are you happy?” Wallis nodded. “That’s great, then. I know you’ve been looking for a while. I was almost going to suggest you come work for me.”

“No offense, Dodo,” said my sister, smiling sweetly, “but who would want to work in Congress?”

“I remember when my mom announced she was running,” Blake said, “we all tried to talk her out of it. It’s a thankless thing. You’re blamed when things go badly and you’re forgotten about when things go well.”

“We do acts of good every day,” was my response. “Incremental change, while not always sexy or newsworthy, is still a reason not to lose all faith.”

“I remember reading something a while ago,” Cricket said. “Gosh, let me see if I can remember it. The writer was saying, there used to be artistry in politics, and now we’ve found ourselves in a music class for toddlers.”

“That was Atlas,” I said, recalling with a pang the exact article. I read them all. He’d been talking about Parliament, but might as well have been writing about us. “Atlas wrote that.”

“That’s right,” said Cricket. “Gosh, he’s a good writer.”

“What is Atlas up to today?” Wallis asked. “I didn’t see him after you two left last night.”

Blake whistled. “You guys left together? I called it, didn’t I, Wallis?”

“We didn’t,” I said shortly.

“We should text him,” said Wallis, pulling out her phone. “See what he’s up to.”

“Don’t.” I was terse, and everyone looked at me curiously. I deliberately softened my face. “I mean, let’s not bother him.”

“Why are you being weird?” said Wallis.

“I’m not being weird.” If anyone has discovered a way of saying this without sounding profoundly weird, please do let me know. “He did me a favor and came to Mac’s wedding. Today, I’m just giving him a little bit of space. Space is sometimes a good thing. Sometimes people need space.”

“Say space one more time and I’m committing you,” said Wallis.

“Space,” I said.

“Why do you need space from Atlas?” asked Cricket.

“Fine, okay.” I settled my breath. The truth—or at least part of it—would get them off my back. “He’s writing an article about Gregory.”

Cricket and Wallis gaped at me.

“And we’re okay with him writing this?” Blake asked diplomatically.