“I was hoping you would have found a way to move on, but after the other day I knew you’d find your way here.” Mrs. Anderson pulls the tie out of her hair and shakes out her long curls. She then paces the toy-laden floor and stares out the window at the glistening lake beyond the glass. Quietly she says, “You’re too much like your mother, Meri. If you’re not careful, it’s going to get you in trouble.”

“The other day you pretended not to see me.”

“I had to, for my family’s sake. For both our families’ sakes.”

“Was my mother in trouble when she died?” I ask, taking a step toward her. “Was her death really an accident?”

“Your mother used to love the job we did,” she says with her back to me. “She believed in it, just like I did . . . do. But something changed. She asked questions that were unusual about the project sites.”

“What kind of questions?”

“About the history of the sites. About people who she seemed to think had once lived there. She claimed she was looking for inspiration for her designs. I would have believed her, but . . .”

“But what?”

Mrs. Anderson takes a deep breath. “I was tired. April wasn’t sleeping because her molars were coming in. When I put her down and couldn’t get back to sleep I decided to just go into the office to try to catch up on work. I saw your mom getting onto the elevator, but she wasn’t on our floor when I arrived. And when I asked her about it the next day . . .” Mrs. Anderson takes a deep breath and turns toward me. Fear shines bright in her eyes. “She said she was in the archives. She found some kind of information about a future project site that couldn’t possibly be true. When I told her she was crazy for wanting to look into it she told me about other things. She said she was working with people who were going to share everything they knew with the city. They had a plan and . . .” She shakes her head as if to clear the memory, but I still see it shining bright in her eyes.

“Plan?” I ask. “What plan?” Mrs. Anderson shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Did my mom tell you about the meaning of ‘verify’?”

“I don’t know what that is,” she insists, but the way her eyes dart to the side tells me she is lying. “I don’t want to know what that means or what she thinks she saw in the archives. It’s not supposed to be my concern.”

She picks up a stuffed elephant from the floor and clutches it to her chest. “Look, I like my job. I love my family, and I don’t want anything to change. I’m happy.” She crosses the room and drops the elephant on the top of an overflowing toy bin. “Everyone I know and care about is happy. Your mother didn’t understand that when I told her I wasn’t interested in whatever she had to say, but it’s true and I have nothing more I can tell you.”