“Fix that,” agreed Kelli.

The mood shifted when it came time to check out a couple of high-rises. I’d forgotten Kelli had an issue with elevators. Kelli did not often have occasion to ride an elevator — usually only when my mother took her for various medical or dental appointments. She would if she had to, but she would never do so happily, and she would always be vocal about her feelings. I remember being driven crazy by my mother’s patience with Kelli on those occasions, how she stood, holding the door open, even as other people, strangers, entered and stared daggers at her and Kelli, wondering what the holdup was. But my mother just stood there, holding the door, calling sweetly to Kelli as Kelli paced and muttered and shook her stubborn head.

Getting her in hadn’t been a problem. At that point in the afternoon, it felt as if Kelli would’ve followed Jessica over a ledge. But the moment the elevator started to move, all Kelli’s disinclination came flooding back. “Agh!” she yelled as we began to lurch upward. “Brok-en! Floor brok-en!”

“It’s just an elevator,” I told her. “You’ve been in elevators before, Kelli.”

“El-vaer,” said Kelli, the way someone else might say “maggots” or “sex offender.”

Jessica glanced over at us. “She ok?”

“No,” said Kelli.

“She’s fine,” I said.

“If it’s an issue,” said Jessica, “we can cross the high-rises off the list.”

“No, no,” I said. “That’s gotta be like eighty percent of the buildings. It won’t kill her.”

“Kill her,” said Kelli.

The doors slid open and Kelli flung herself into the hallway.

It just got worse from there. The condo, with its granite countertops, vertiginous view, and energy-efficient fridge, had been looked over, and soon enough it was time to get back in the elevator again. This time, Kelli kicked up a major stink.

“No el-vaer. Not.”

“Kelli,” I said. “You gotta get in.”

“No el-vaer, no!” Kelli stared at the ground and began rocking in place.

“Rocking’s not going to help!” I said, losing my patience. “We’re fifteen stories up! Do you wanna go home?”

“Home,” said Kelli.

“Then you have to get in the elevator.”

I was already in, mashing the button to keep the door open while Jessica stood in the hallway, looking back and forth between Kelli and me.

“Get in,” I said to Jessica.

“Are you sure?” said Jessica.

“We need to show her we’re serious. Come on, Kelli,” I said. “Jessica and I are leaving now. We have to leave.”

Jessica stepped into the elevator with me. Kelli hadn’t raised her head to witness this, but I knew she had registered it. She stood there rocking and whispering furiously to herself, maybe cursing me, maybe psyching herself up.

“Kelli!” I yelled. “Get in here!”

Kelli started yelling back at me, her furious whispering becoming abruptly loud and audible — a lot of nos and el-vaers and homes and Karies and proclamations that Kelli don’t want to, she don’t want to!