Later I drove through traffic to the bar, which occupied a corner strip mall on Westheimer, along with a dry cleaners, one window-broken vacancy, and an accountant’s office called Tax Mex. Inside I ignored the cheap specials and ordered Maker’s, rocks; I was rich. Danielle showed up late, when I was on my second drink. She was gorgeous, as always, but in a weird, doll-like way: long streaked hair, too much makeup. Her tits looked bigger, fake.

“Charlotte, wow,” she said. “It’s nice to see you.” She gave me a half hug, kissed the air near my cheek.

“You look great,” I said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

She ordered a peach martini from the bartender and I got another whiskey.

“So what’s going on?” she said.

“Don’t get upset.”

“Uh-oh, Charlotte, what?”

“Your mom paid me a thousand dollars for your phone number,” I said.

“What?”

“Yeah.” I handed her Sally’s envelope. “Here’s your half.”

She opened the flap and thumbed through the bills. “You gave her my number?” she said.

“Yeah. Because she gave me a thousand dollars.”

“Does she want me to have this?”

“She doesn’t know.”

Danielle squinted at me. “Then why are you giving it to me?”

“I figured, worst-case scenario, you could use it to get a new phone. It felt weird to keep it and not warn you.”

“Thanks.”

“Free money, right? Why not.”

She set the envelope on the bar and centered her drink on top of it. A sticky pink ring dampened the paper.

“Fucking Sally,” she said.

“I know.”

“She’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” I said. “I would have given up your digits for a lot less.”

“Shut up,” Danielle said, laughing.

“Has she called you yet?”

“No. What does she want?”

“She wants to tell you your great-aunt died.”

“Aunt Baby? God, we used to go to her place when I was little. She lived out in Tomball.”

“She left you something in her will. You’ll have to see the lawyer and sign papers, I guess.”

“God, Sally and her lawyer? The worst.”

“I’m sorry about your aunt.”

Danielle shrugged. “I barely remember her. Still, it’s sad. Anyways. It’s great to see you. What have you been doing all this time? I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other more.”

“I guess I stay in the neighborhood a lot. I’ve been working at Common Grounds on Shepherd. The coffee shop.”

“Oh, I know that place. I never go in there. So what else? Are you seeing anybody?”

I laughed. “All you care about is boys,” I said. “But yes, yeah, I have a boyfriend. He’s in a band, he’s nice, we’ve been together about a year.”

“Is it serious?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Kind of serious, yeah. How about you? How’ve you been?”

She rested her hand on the edge of the bar. I’d forgotten her grace, her perfect posture. Her wrists were delicate and freckled.

“I’m doing okay. Good, actually. It really is nice to see you. I can finally have a chance to say thank you for your letters.”