Philip pulled the embarrassingly huge suitcase farther into the house. “The kids are all tested every week at St. Catherine’s. I’m sure we’re fine.” He gestured toward Layla. “You were just tested, right?”

Beside her, Layla nodded. Tonya noticed Imani’s expression change from concerned to surprised. “You’re a St. Catherine’s mom?”

Avoiding such amazed reactions was why Tonya rarely told anyone where her kid attended middle school. St. Catherine’s had a well-deserved reputation among New Yorkers as being an Ivy League farm team with a cost exceeding many colleges. Everyone knew that a single mom wouldn’t be able to afford it on a waitress’s salary. In most people’s minds, that left only three options: Her child was a genius on an academic scholarship, her rich parents were willing to support their granddaughter but had cut off their own kid for some horrible transgression, or Layla’s absentee dad was loaded. Two of the assumptions may have been correct, but Tonya wasn’t allowed to confirm or deny any of them.

“Layla has gone since kindergarten.” Tonya shot her daughter an encouraging look. “You love it, right?”

Layla stepped a little farther into the room. “I like the writing programs a lot,” she said.

“So does Vivienne.” Imani gave Layla a more natural smile. She pointed to her own bare face. “I suppose since you guys are all regularly tested anyway.”

Layla turned to her, wide eyes begging permission. Tonya reached behind her kid’s strawberry-blond locks and unhooked the ear loop. The mask fell away, revealing Layla’s freckled nose and fair skin. Seeing her child’s bare face while indoors in someone else’s house nearly made Tonya gasp. It was like running into a forgotten and once-loved friend.

“Vivienne, Jay,” Philip yelled up the stairs. “Come and meet our guests.”

Tonya bristled at the term. A guest was the recipient of hospitality, someone who might be expected to repay the favor at a later date, in a way yet to be determined. She was a renter. Philip had told her that he’d charge eight hundred a month for the two-bedroom guest suite on his third floor. She intended to start paying once her unemployment checks arrived, four to six weeks hence. Philip had said she could work off the first month in the restaurant washing dishes and cleaning the floors during the takeout dinner shift.

She addressed Imani. “I am really glad to be renting from someone I know,” she said. “Philip mentioned eight hundred per month.”

Imani glanced at her husband. Again, they exchanged inaudible information. Tonya felt a needle of regret. She’d never been close enough to anyone to speak wordlessly, save for with Layla. And things were lost in translation when the conversation was between a parent and child. Adults could convey so much more via gesture and glance.