The voice was wispy, like a ghost from the past. I couldn’t quite make out whether it was male or female, but who would call to cuss me out? An angry client? I had none that I knew of, not that angry . . . except for Irving, the lawsuit-happy bastard.

“You okay?” Robin asked.

“Yeah.” My hands trembled as I turned off my cell phone and pocketed it. I didn’t want whoever it was calling me back. “Sorry about that. Must have been a wrong number. So, how about you? Are you staying busy?”

Robin dropped her chin on her hands, giving me a forlorn vibe. Oh merda. She needed a favor. “Not really, no. I need a job. Desperately.”

I fell back against my chair. Robin—a job? She hadn’t worked since meeting Grant, which was fifteen years ago. Since then she lived for making home-cooked meals, dusting, mopping, baking, nursing . . . all that selfless wifedom and mommyhood crap I couldn’t stand.

“What about retail again? You did that for a bit after college. Flexible hours, mindless work—no offense—employee discount . . . you were good at that, weren’t you?”

“Lil, I was awful with customers! Remember? I was perpetually late, I hated running registers, and I got in trouble for talking too much with coworkers. It wasn’t the right fit for me.”

“What about waitressing?”

“No way. Remember last time I had to run around carrying trays of food? I’d get fired on the first day. You know how clumsy I am.”

She flung out her hands in a self-deprecating gesture, sending her full coffee mug crashing to the floor. An idle barista came over to fetch Robin a fresh cup and to clean up the mess. Robin mouthed a mortified sorry at her.

When we’d both finished laughing at this demonstration, she added: “Besides, I need to make more than a buck fifty an hour.”

“Plus tips,” I added with mock enthusiasm.

“Which I never got. I think I lost money with waitressing because my boss would dock my pay when I’d break stuff.”

We both laughed as I recounted the time she’d spilled hot coffee on Tony’s crotch the first time she met him. From that moment on, whenever she offered him coffee he covered his groin.

“So anyway, Lil, I was glad you called me this morning. I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“Okay.” I gulped my espresso, anything to avoid eye contact. Did she know about me and Grant? I inhaled a cleansing breath and prepared myself for the worst.

“I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of debt. Actually, a lot of debt.”

Thank God, thank God, thank God. This was about her, not me. I was all ears.

“How much debt?”

“Over $42,000 . . . on my credit card . . . at a huge interest rate.”