My whole body stiffens, clueless as to what he’s talking about, so I turn to my notebook and my eyes widen. My mother lives in Whittier now. The idea shortens my breath. Is that why Hank seems uneasy? I keep reading, desperate to figure it out before he knows how in the dark I am, and I see another note to myself. Tate is in Whittier too. Now I can’t hide my surprise, because I can feel it in the tips of my ears. “Oh, are you talking about Tate Dunn? Yes, I know about that.” I rock back and forth on my heels. Hank certainly remembers how close I was with Tate. Caught us stealing two backpacks full of chips and soda from the market when we were sixteen. Afterward, he made us work for him for free for an entire week to pay him back. I don’t like remembering how little care we had for how we affected others, like Hank. I scrunch my nose. “Have I ever apologized to you for how I behaved as a kid?” His market was the victim of more than one of our shoplifting attempts, and we got caught only that one time.

Hank’s eyebrows shoot skyward, as though my question surprises him. “Ah, Claire, that was a long time ago. You and Tate were just kids, and you both turned out all right, didn’t you? And you can bet that Vance made sure you apologized to me.”

I smile. Of course he did. “Well, I’m sorry now, too, if that makes any difference.”

Hank holds his hands out. “You have nothing to be sorry for; Vance raised you . . .” He drops his gaze, folds the paper that’s on the counter. “He raised you right, Claire.”

The bell above the door chimes.

“Hello, Hank,” Ruth says and I turn to see her in her post-office uniform of blue pants and a pressed and starched button-down shirt. “Hi, Claire. Hey, I meant to ask you yesterday . . .” She purses her lips. “Can you please do something to help Sefina stay on the beat?”

I make a face. I don’t have to recall what she’s talking about to know it has to do with Sefina and her dancing. “She’s a lost cause, don’t you think?”

Ruth laughs. “I wouldn’t tell her that. But you might want to head on over to the clinic now. Sefina needs to close a bit early today.” She seems to measure me up. “Would you like for me to walk you over?”

I tilt my head, confused by her question because the city offices are in BTI, just down the hall. “No, Ruth, I think I can—”

She hands me a note card. The city offices have moved. They are in the new building with the blue roof, across from Whiskey Pete’s.