Picking up on Finnegan’s observation that they were back where it all began, she said, “And I probably don’t look much different than I did that day.” She half raised her arms, showing off her shapeless knit sweater. She glanced down. “These might be the same jeans.”

“It’s one of your charms. You’ve never let success go to your head. You almost bailed on the Newbery Awards because you didn’t want to get glammed up. I almost wish you had skipped it. I could have accepted the award on your behalf.”

“John talked me into it,” she said, smiling sadly at the memory. “When I came out of the bedroom in that Dior gown he asked who I was and what I’d done with his wife.”

Her eyes wandered the room.

“You’re not liking the halibut?” Finnegan asked. He pointed to the mostly untouched piece of fish on her plate. “Send it back. Get something else.”

“It’s fine.”

“Really. You were going to get the chicken. Send it back and get the chicken.”

“I don’t want the chicken. But I wouldn’t say no to another one of these Garden Gimlets.”

She indicated her cocktail glass. She’d already had two. Finnegan waved a hand in the air, caught the eye of a waiter, pointed to Annie’s empty glass, and nodded. The waiter nodded in return. Message received.

“There are two women at that table over there who’ve been looking this way,” she said. “Christ, don’t turn around.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“This is what I’m talking about,” Annie said. “People sneaking glances, whispering. Even Charlie’s dealing with it at school. Kids teasing. Asking him if he’s taking flying lessons.”

Finnegan grimaced.

“I’m no A-list celeb,” Annie conceded. “Not even C-list. But I do get recognized occasionally. I want to go where no one knows me.”

“So take a break. Three months, six. A year. Whatever. Whenever you’re ready, we’re here. No pressure.”

“I can pay back the advance for the next one.”

His palms went up again. “There’s no need for talk like that.”

The waiter arrived with her cocktail, took the empty glass away. Rather than pick it up and have a sip, she simply stared at it.

“I see him every night,” she whispered.

Finnegan waited.

“I’m afraid to go to sleep because he always visits me.”

“John,” Finnegan said.

Annie bit her lower lip. “Him, too. But I welcome those visits.”

Stupid me, Finnegan thought. Of course she was talking about Evan.

“Every time, I try to talk him back inside. He’s on the ledge and I’m doing everything I can to persuade him that his goddamn cardboard wings won’t hold him aloft. He won’t listen. He looks so happy.”