Marjane was in the formal parlor just off the entry hallway, waiting for them on a pale blue sofa that floated on a sea of plush, pristine white carpeting. She wore a long shift dress with a brocade jacket, and her thick black hair, flecked with silver, was half pulled back in a Bakelite barrette. A perfectly groomed Pomeranian slept in her lap, and Alex knew it must be Benson, named for Marjane’s favorite TV detective. She moved to stand, waking the dog and reaching for her cane with an unsteady hand, but Danial insisted that she remain seated, crossing the room and lowering himself down to her eye level as he took both of her hands in his. He had warned Alex that her body had good and bad days and, while the doctors said she was responding well to treatment overall, she must not let her pride push her past what was healthy.

“I’m very sorry,” she said, looking up at Alex, her delicate hands still resting in her son’s. “I’ll have to greet you from here.”

Alex nervously eked out a few words in the Farsi she had been practicing tirelessly on Rosetta Stone, something approximating “Thank you for having me.”

She nodded, smiling and replying “You’re welcome,” in her native language.

Danial looked at Alex from his crouched position next to his mother, and seeing the two of them together made Alex’s heart swell. They were so similar, the same slight tilt downward at the corners of their eyes, the same half-smile that dimpled their right cheek, the same implacable air of elegance that surrounded them like a subtle perfume.

He opened his arm to gesture Alex over and she crossed the room, setting down the box of handmade chocolates she’d brought from Philadelphia on a side table. She crouched down next to him and extended her hand for a shake. “It’s so nice to see you again,” she said, and Marjane put both of her hands around Alex’s, steadying them while looking in her eyes.

“I am so happy you’re here,” she said quietly, her eyes going slightly glossy as she studied Alex’s face.

Danial took her hand and led her over to the identical couch opposite his mother’s, separated by an ornate marble coffee table with a large bouquet of flowers in the center. Alex marveled at the china cabinet in a far corner filled with exquisite dishes, the sideboard along the wall with a polished silver tea set, the vast oil paintings of landscapes hung over the wallpaper. In therapy, Alex had heard of healing your inner child, and she thought of Danial working so hard to give his mother this perfect life-size dollhouse, where everything was exactly as she wanted it. She imagined what her own mother’s dream home might look like.