“You know how she is, Cole.” She was still slumped on the kitchen stool, but she’d lifted her head off the counter to gesticulate. “If I manage to get her on the phone, instead of her declining with a ‘can’t talk now, text me if it’s urgent!’ response, it’s all business. Besides, what am I going to tell her? I’m kind of sort of thinking about moving to the Adirondacks? What is she going to do with that? It’s not fair to talk to her until I know what I’m going to do.”

“That is some very twisted logic, my love. Who on Earth is better at thinking through all the logistics of complicated situations than Tara? She could actually help. Oh shit, my date is looking for me. I adore you, call your fiancée, talk to you soooooon.” He trailed off and hung up.

Miriam looked up from her phone to find Mr. Matthews watching her, an eyebrow raised. He gestured her toward the door to the Matthewses’ back apartments. He didn’t say anything, although he must have heard at least part of the conversation, and she was grateful that he always gave her space when she needed it.

Mrs. Matthews was setting up shabbat candles, just as she’d always done on Friday nights when Miriam was little. She used to hope for an invitation into their little family space, with the Matthews kids, for this ritual, and felt so special when she was.

She’d forgotten about that, until now.

Her eyes welled up. Of course Mr. Matthews would know that she needed some time to rest and pray right now. It tore at Miriam that in running from Carrigan’s because there was a chance it might remind her of her dad, she’d missed years of shabbat prayers with her real family, the people who actually wanted to stand as her parents.

While she was here, she could make some of that up to them—and herself.

She left the Matthewses as the final rays of dusk were fading from the sky, with a sense of peace. She had Cole at her back and the Matthewses supporting her. Whatever she decided, she would be loved and have a place to land. The peace lasted exactly thirty seconds, before her mother intercepted her walking up the stairs to her room.

“Oh, Miriam, I’ve been meaning to come find you,” Ziva effused.

Miriam flinched while her mom air kissed both her cheeks. “That’s not necessary,” she said through a tight smile.

Refusing to take the hint, her mom gripped her elbow and propelled her forward, forcing Miriam to walk with her or make a show of pulling away where guests might see them. Miriam had learned very young not to make a show, and her mother knew it.