“Most of our clients are lovely people,” she said, “but once in a while we end up in a relationship with someone who can’t be pleased. And then we’ve got to work through the project and get to the other side. I’m probably preaching to the choir, right?” She took a sip of her lemon water.

I felt flattered that she was comparing her work to mine. I hesitated, however, not wanting to criticize a client. “Are you struggling with a particular person right now?”

She blossomed when the attention was on her. “Not exactly. But it’s been a hard year.”

“Yes?”

“Just … a lot of disappointments.” She frowned. “I count my blessings, though.” Her face had a worn appearance, but regardless, I found her arresting. Even the prior week, when she’d come home drunk and messy, she’d still glowed like a beacon. She lit the room up when she walked in.

“If you ever want to discuss it…”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you.” Her fingers trailed down her neck.

I sensed that she did want to talk about it. “I admire you, Amelia. Your family, your professional success. If you only knew how impressive you are—to an outsider.”

“You’re not an outsider, Delta!”

“I’m honored to be included in your life.”

“When will you see your son again?” she asked.

“I try to FaceTime every day.”

“It must be hard,” she said.

My hand was too hot. I set the cup down.

“Where did you grow up?” she asked, as if the idea had only just occurred to her. I was sorry that it had. My roots—that wasn’t a subject I enjoyed and I usually chose to deflect the conversation away from that territory.

“Florida.”

“Where in Florida? My parents live in Florida.”

Amelia felt it was her prerogative to have the information she wanted, and ignored the social cues that might have led someone else to drop a subject. She wasn’t oblivious to the cues. She simply disregarded them. I was usually adept at pivoting away from my own story after providing only the most rudimentary information, but not in this case.

“Orlando.”

“And your family?” she asked.

“I have an older sister.” I’d always wanted an older sister. “My parents both died a few years ago. Several months apart. They were very close.” My mother had died in a car accident right after I’d graduated from high school, and my father might be dead. I hadn’t seen him for fifteen years and had no desire to. So he was dead, in a sense. “I love Brooklyn. I have a family of friends. We celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. Now that I’m divorced.”