“Most people think that all tech stocks are down. But biotech stocks actually crashed out in ninety-seven and have been recovering ever since. The bubble last year didn’t even touch them. People need new medicines more than they need flashy Web sites that sell toys, don’t they? I was planning on paying off my mortgage year after next. Now I guess it’ll have to wait a bit longer—but I’m not in trouble unless I stay unemployed over a year.”

“Well, at least you found a use for all that time in med school.” Iris looked relieved. “So you’re not hard up.”

“Not in the short term,” Miriam corrected instinctively. “Ask me again in six months. Anyway. Is there anything I can get you while I’m here?”

“A good stiff drink.” Iris clucked to herself. “Listen, I’m going to be all right. The disease, it comes and it goes—another few weeks and I’ll be walking again.” She gestured at the aluminum walking frame next to her chair. “I’ve been getting plenty of rest and with Marge around twice a day I can just about cope, apart from the boredom. I’ve even been doing a bit of filing and cleaning, you know, turning out the dusty old corners?”

“Oh, right. Turned anything up?”

“Lots of dustballs. Anyway,” she continued after a moment. “There’s some stuff I’ve been meaning to hand over to you.”

“‘Stuff.’” For a moment, Miriam couldn’t focus on the problem at hand. It was too much to deal with. She’d lost her job and then, the very same day, her mother wanted to talk about selling her home. “I’m sorry, I’m not very focused today.”

“Not very—” Iris snorted. “You’re like a microscope, girl! Most other people would be walking around in a daze. It’s not very considerate of me, I know, it’s just that I’ve been thinking about things and there’s some stuff you really should have right now. Partly because you’re grown up and partly because it belongs to you—you might have some use for it. Stuff that might get overlooked.”

Miriam must have looked baffled because Iris smiled at her encouragingly. “Yes. You know, ‘stuff.’ Photograph albums, useless things like Morris’s folks’ birth certificates, my old passport, my parents’ death certificates, your adoption papers. Some stuff relating to your birth-mother, too.”

Miriam shook her head. “My adoption papers—why would I want them? That’s old stuff, and you’re the only mother I’ve ever had.” She looked at Iris fiercely. “You’re not allowed to push me away!”