“Where is your head?” Kayla demands from behind her desk. “Everything I’ve said to you this morning I’ve had to repeat.”

“I’m sorry.” I lean back in my seat and release a long breath. “Just a lot going on. Yeah. I’ll call the publisher. Piers found the real name of the author. She’s writing the biography under a pseudonym.”

“What’s the name?” Kayla asks.

“Um, lemme see.” I glance at my phone, flicking past Ezra’s name and all the messages he’s sent that have gone unanswered and find Piers’ last message. “Serena Washington.”

Keith frowns and sits on the edge of Kayla’s desk. “I knew a Serena Washington.”

“For real?” I ask. “Who?”

“Remember Mrs. Washington?” Keith asks.

“Our old nosy neighbor?” Kayla’s face lights with recognition. “That old lady caught me in so many compromising positions.”

“All of high school was a compromising position for you, Zee.” I laugh, ducking when she throws a paper clip at me. “You know it’s true. Mama didn’t call you fast tail for nothing.”

“So fast,” Mama says from the door. “Thought your daddy would lose his mind from all those boys coming to the house.”

“I was not that bad,” Kayla says, trying to fake outrage because she knows she was.

“You were,” Keith, Mama and I say in harmony.

The four of us laugh, and it reminds me of all the good times we had growing up. Feels like the Saturday mornings when the work was done and we’d stop for lunch in the kitchen. Laughter, macaroni and cheese, and chicken nuggets while I waited for the sun to go down, for Shabbat to end so Ezra and I could play.

Ezra.

I pull my phone out, not surprised to see two new messages from him. I haven’t responded, but he won’t stop if I don’t.

Me: Give me some space.

Ezra: Call me.

Me: Have you asked your mom about the charm?

Ezra:  Not yet. Just a few things going on here, as I’m sure you remember.

Ezra: I miss you.

Damn heart. Skipping beats and shit.

Me: It’s only been a day.

Ezra: A day of you ignoring my messages.

Me:  After this meeting, I’ll call you.

Ezra: If you don’t call, I’ll come to your mother’s house.

That is a scene I want to avoid at all costs. I heave a sigh and slip the phone back into my purse. The preternatural quiet from my typically boisterous family makes me realize they’re all staring at me.

“What?” I ask, giving them each a piece of my frown. “What are you looking at?”

“Who you texting?” Kayla aims her chin at my phone.

“Is it that Stern boy?” Mama asks with a smile. “Nose been wide open for you since he was old enough to know.”