“That’s what it looks like, right?” In the photo, their bangs almost reached their hairline, and one side was shorter than the other. “But, no. That was the year my father thought he could make money selling Atari consoles, even though the video game industry was crashing for a couple of years in the eighties, and my mother tried to make up for it and save money by giving us haircuts instead of sending us to the hairdresser. She couldn’t get the bangs right and kept trying to even them out, so they became shorter and shorter.”

Anja giggled. “How old were you?”

“About four or so. Too young to defend myself against this accidental mullet.”

Still grinning, Anja traced the crooked line of four-year-old Susanne’s bangs with her index finger, a gesture that looked so tender that adult Susanne shivered.

Cut it out, idiot!

Anja directed her attention to Susanne’s parents, who stood behind them in the picture.

Both of them were smiling, even though Susanne remembered the fight they’d had over the haircuts gone wrong.

“You really look a lot like your father,” Anja commented.

Susanne heard that a lot, but she could never see it. Or maybe she didn’t want to see it. “I guess.”

Anja turned away from the photo and studied her instead. “That’s not a bad thing, is it? He’s a good-looking guy.”

“So you think I’m good-looking too, hmm?” That almost made up for being compared to her father.

Anja’s cheeks flamed a bright pink, but she held Susanne’s gaze. “You don’t like being compared to him, do you?”

A sigh worked its way up Susanne’s throat. “I don’t hate him or anything, but whenever my mother points out that I’m like him in some way, she doesn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“If he’s anything like Nobby, he can’t be all bad, can he? I mean, your parents went through a divorce. Has it ever occurred to you that your mother isn’t totally objective when it comes to your father?”

“Yes, of course,” Susanne said, but it was more of an automatic response. Then, when Anja kept looking at her with that patient, understanding gaze, she paused and took a moment to think about it. “I know that. But maybe you’re right. He’s got a great sense of humor, he’s not afraid to venture off the beaten track, and he probably has other positive traits too. Maybe I should remind myself of that more often.”

Anja nodded. “Maybe you should.”

Their gazes connected and held.

In the past, Susanne had never liked giving people such insights into her psyche, making herself vulnerable, but now she found to her surprise that it wasn’t a bad feeling at all—maybe because she sensed that Anja liked what she saw.