Unity walked through the living room and opened the front door to find Dagmar standing on the porch. She had her phone in one hand and a pink box from a local bakery in the other.

Unity’s restlessness faded and her stomach unknotted.

“Eclairs,” Dagmar told her. “An offering of peace.”

Unity drew her friend into the house, took the box and put it on the coffee table by the sofa, then hugged the older woman. Dagmar hugged her back.

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” Dagmar said when they released each other. “I’m sorry for that, and for upsetting you.”

“But not for what you said?” Unity asked, amused by the distinction.

“I’m not wrong, although I might not have handled the situation the best way I could have. But I never meant to make you cry.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. It’s hard for me to imagine moving on.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“Mostly.”

“They say admitting the problem is half the battle, but I’ve always thought that was a crock. It’s more like an eighth of the battle. But at least progress has been made, yes?”

Unity smiled. “It has.”

“Excellent. Come on. I’ll buy you dinner and we can celebrate your eighth.”

“What about the eclairs?”

“Put them in the refrigerator, darling. They’re for breakfast.”

Thaddeus arrived at the upscale downtown Seattle restaurant a few minutes before the hour. He told the hostess he was there for the senator’s luncheon and was shown to a private room in the back.

Political fund-raising went in and out of season, depending on whether or not the legislature was in session. For weeks at a time, his email was silent, but then it all ramped up again with pleas for money.

Thaddeus gave generously to the candidates he supported. Today he was attending a lunch hosted by one of Washington State’s two senators. He didn’t have an agenda, but he liked to know if there was ever a problem, he had contact information for senior staff in the senator’s office.

The group of twenty or twenty-five attendees was eclectic, as always. A few businesspeople, some retirees, a handful of what he would guess were activists representing different causes. The lunch would follow a familiar pattern—once the senator arrived and everyone was seated, they would go around the room and introduce themselves. The senator would make a few remarks, then open up the room to questions. Some ninety minutes later, it would all be over.

The room was set up with a long table in the center. The senator’s seat was identified with a sweater thrown across the back. A few eager souls had already claimed the seats on either side. Thaddeus wondered what it said about a person that they were so determined to be close to power. He preferred to get the lay of the land, so to speak, then sit where he could observe what was going on. If he had something he wanted to discuss with the senator, he would make an appointment, not sidle up at a luncheon.