She nods, lowering her eyes, and I send a glance toward Sibby, relieved when I see that she looks totally comfortable. If seeing Lark here had been painful for Sibby before, it certainly doesn’t seem to be now.

“Okay,” Sibby says. “She does need money, though, if she’s not going to do this”—she pauses to prepare her big voice—“extremely bad job idea. Meg, what if I—”

I cut her off before she can suggest anything ridiculous, such as calling her dad. It strikes me suddenly how many things have changed—not only in the last terrible, stressful day and a half, but also in the last few months. One gray day in spring, a man I never thought I’d ever have occasion to see again came through the doors of the shop and confronted me about my letters, and I felt as isolated as I’d ever been in my life. Now, it’s a gray summer day and it feels as if the whole city knows about my secret, but at least I’m not facing the fallout alone.

“I can handle this,” I say, feeling a whole lot more capable than I did when I walked in here. “I need to . . . start over, I guess. I’ve done it before, right? I’m going to start contacting my clients, and I’ll try to reassure them the best I can, though it’ll probably be difficult to—”

“I could help,” Lark says.

Sibby and I both watch as she holds up the planner again, waving it in the air. “I’ll do some social media posts about this to start.”

“Oooh,” Sibby says, and there’s not a trace of jealousy in her voice. I get the sense of something important here, some shift in our pattern—Sibby not looking to take over, to be the one in charge. “Yes, this is good.”

“And you meet your clients out, right? At coffee shops?”

“Uh, yes?”

Lark nods. “Maybe I could show up for the difficult ones, you know? I’m not saying everyone would care, but I still have a good deal of Princess Freddie power to my name. I could be a character reference. I mean, not a movie character. I’m not going to come in costume. You know what I’m saying.”

I blink at her. “But you . . . What about your privacy?”

She shrugs again. “That’s why I’d be a good reference, right? I trust you with my stuff, so they can, too.”

“Lark, this is too much.”

“It’s not. It’s like you said. We’re friends.”

“Oh!” Sibby exclaims. “Are we going to have a sleepover now? Because we absolutely should.”

“I can swing it,” Lark says. “I’ll call Jade and ask her to bring me some things.”

“Who’s Jade?”

“My assistant,” Lark says, and Sibby’s eyes go wide.