“You’re going to throw it away? Throw my pee-pee away?” Rachel’s eyes are wide, her mouth open in bald horror. How could I throw her amazing achievement away when just a moment ago we’d been so happy with it?

“We’ll save it and show Daddy. Then you can put it in the toilet—how’s that?”

Her smile returns.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, before Troy gets home, before we have a chance to eat dinner, and talk about our day over a glass of wine, or sit on our balcony and watch the sea lap the sand, or finish the flirting that we started that morning, the telephone rings. It’s Stuart, my mentor and one of the partners at my firm.

“Hey, I went over that case law for the Hanson case. Got decisions that’ll buoy up our arguments,” I tell him before he even says hello.

“Sky.” His patient voice carries that tinge of bad news. My mind skitters to what it could be. We’re being sued for malpractice? On one of the cases I worked on? Another member of the firm died?

“Sky, I have some, ah, unfortunate news.”

“What?” I start pacing with the phone pressed to my ear. Sesame Street is on the TV and Rachel sits on the floor, teaching a line of stuffed animals.

“As you know, our billable hours have decreased and, really, I guess, we were able to let you work part-time because we didn’t have much work, and now, well, we don’t even have that. So we have to let you go.” He pauses.

I know that they—the partners—are billing those hours for themselves, even though my fees are less than theirs.

“Please be reassured …”

I resent his formality, selfishly creating distance so that firing me is less painful for him.

“When things change we’ll contact you, and if you’re still available we would love to have you back. I’ll help you find a position with another firm, though I wouldn’t relish you being our competition.” He forces a chuckle. “We’re going to miss you.” And then his voice warms, “I will miss you.”

His words seem to echo. I replay them in my mind as soon as he says them. We have to let you go. Please be reassured. Another position. I’m trying to integrate them. “I loved the work. And I love working with you.” I shouldn’t have said that.

He sighs. “This is difficult for me, for all of us.”

For a minute there’s silence on the phone while I consider my options. Maybe I should start my own firm. If Mia were still alive, I would. Maybe Troy and I could start a firm, but we need the consistent paycheck and benefits that come with his job.

“When do you think you could clear out your desk? We’d all like to take you out to lunch, too.”