Above the counter was an old circus poster featuring the blond likeness of her grandmother Margot Cabot draped over a white steed, her famous leg clutching the back of the animal. It was an unreal position—anyone normal would have fallen from that angle—but it sure made for a great illustration.

“She was a beauty, wasn’t she?” It was Marla.

Lara looked up, surprised that she’d been so lost in the artwork, she hadn’t seen Marla turn around.

“She really was, but no one can stay on a horse perched like that.”

Marla chuckled. “Well, I think that pose was more to draw the teenage boys to the circus than anything else.”

Lara walked up to the counter, where books like Virginia’s Battlefields and Kerrigan Falls in Photography, which Lara noticed was written by Marla, were stacked in neat piles. “I need to pick up tickets for my mother.” Lara paused. “Audrey Barnes.”

Marla smiled. “I remember you from Gaston’s.” She thumbed through a small box of envelopes, going forward and backward until she found the one she was looking for. “Barnes.” She opened it. “Two tickets?”

Lara nodded.

“I hear you are Ben’s date tonight.” Marla held the tickets out for Lara.

Lara stammered, not sure how to respond.

“It’s okay,” said Marla. “He told me. I warn you, though, he doesn’t dance. I tried for years. Took him to Arthur Murray for salsa lessons and they refunded my money after one session. Said he was hopeless.”

Lara clutched her tickets. “He also has terrible taste in James Bond films.”

Marla leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” said Lara, a bit wary.

“I have something for you.” She paused. “It’s complicated. It was for Todd, actually. Do you want it?” Marla put her finger up for Lara to wait, then opened a drawer and pulled out a parchment envelope of photos.

“The truck,” said Lara, remembering that Todd had been looking for old examples of Le Cirque Margot’s livery. He’d shown her some photos that night in the garage. That night.