On the second of January, I brought the prints to the Straubs’ house. I was nervous about seeing Amelia, and as I approached the front door, my anxiety escalated. I wondered if she’d missed me as much as I’d missed her.

When she opened the door to greet me, her words and gestures pulled me into the circle of light that surrounded her. “Delta Dawn!” she said. The bells sounded in my head again, but this time they transformed into a full orchestra performing an opera, probably Verdi’s Aida, since that was the only opera I knew.

I handed her the wrapped packages. Would the silver frame strike her as an extravagant gift that wasn’t warranted by our friendship? I feared that her response would be less than I’d imagined it to be. I needed her to recognize my work, the same way I recognized hers.

She unwrapped the one of Natalie with her balloon unicorn. Tears filled her eyes. “Darling Delta. There are no words.” She embraced me.

My cup runneth over. That wasn’t a phrase I’d ever thought about or used before, but right then it seemed apropos.

She placed three of the framed photos on their console table in the front library. And two in the great room. I couldn’t have asked for more prominent placement.

In the New Year, Friday night babysitting at the Straubs became a pattern, and one or two additional nights often came up at the last minute, so I was averaging two nights a week at their house, one night a week with Ian, and found myself busy a great deal.

I got in the habit of picking up the Straubs’ dry cleaning, and other odd errands, because such gestures gave me a reason to make extra visits to their house and because Amelia appreciated it so much. “Delta, you’re a true miracle,” she would say, interlacing her fingers below her chin in a prayerlike gesture.

One evening, as I approached the Straubs’ brownstone to drop off the dry cleaning, I saw the lights on through their garden-level windows. I casually mentioned my observation to Fritz when he greeted me at the door. “Would you like me to shut those lights off?”

“That’s quiet little Gwen who rents from us.” He smiled. “She barely makes a peep. The best kind of tenant doesn’t socialize.”

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Fritz in those early weeks, but I could tell he was attracted to me. I could sense his eyes locked on me when my back was turned. I, too, longed for a connection with him, perhaps because he was a central figure in Amelia’s world.