“So, Imani, as you might remember, this is Tonya, the head of my waitstaff, and her daughter, Layla.”

Tonya placed the hand not holding her massive bag on Layla’s back and pushed her forward. Her daughter offered a small wave along with brief eye contact. Unlike Tonya, Layla had never been an actress. She didn’t know how to cover the utter humiliation that Tonya was certain they both felt standing out in the cold on a strange front stoop, a pair of starving alley cats begging for a warm box and milk dish.

Philip reached for the suitcase handle. “Let me help you with that.”

Imani’s brown eyes widened as she watched him wheel in the massive bag. Had Tonya known that Philip hadn’t discussed things with his spouse, she would have shown up with little more than the clothes on her back. As it was, she’d packed for the foreseeable future, bringing most of Layla’s wardrobe and much of her own, as well as notebooks, folders, and other items that Layla would need for school. The Bushwick storage facility was easily an hour away by public transport. Tonya hadn’t wanted to make too many trips.

“I really can’t thank you both enough,” Tonya said, directing her gratitude to Imani. “This whole thing happened so suddenly. Layla and I weren’t sure where we were going to go.”

Imani’s smile seemed to soften. “Well, we do have the rooms upstairs, and I understand your concern about hotels given the virus. Speaking of”—she pointed to her uncovered face—“I suppose I should grab a mask. Just a minute.”

Imani stepped into what appeared to be a dining room. Tonya could see a long table with six chairs and a sitting room beyond. Presumably, the kitchen was on the other side of the wall.

Philip, still maskless, waved them inside.

Tonya urged Layla forward and then stepped inside just enough to clear the door. It shut behind her, locking them in. There was no going back now.

Philip took several steps into the dining room. “I don’t think masks are really necessary, honey,” he said, addressing the bent back of his wife, who was already opening drawers in the hutch. “They won’t be sleeping with them on, so they’re ultimately sharing the same air. The Band-Aid’s got to come off sometime.”

Imani made a noise, part hiccup, part stuttering start to some objection. She turned toward Philip and delivered a hard stare. A million words were passing between them at the speed of light, Tonya knew. She couldn’t read all of them. But she got the gist.

“We can wear one in the common areas, if you’d prefer,” she said.

The tense smile on Imani’s face turned sheepish. “I’m sure you’re healthy. It’s only that we wouldn’t want to unintentionally be carrying something around and make you sick.”