“What are you looking at?” Lena asked.

“Nothing.” I turned back to face her, but not before I saw that Rahmia, polished suburban Rahmia, had appeared in the doorway. With a furtive glance, she’d drawn the woman inside.

The world seemed strange, unsettled. I didn’t understand anyone, least of all myself. I rewrapped the remaining tacos in aluminum foil. “Let’s go back the way we came. I want to give these to the man under the bridge.”

“That’s not the quickest way home,” Lena protested. “Just give your leftovers to Michael.”

But I couldn’t forget meeting the man’s eyes, the resignation in his posture, the darkness under the bridge. I didn’t know what his life was like any more than I knew what was happening in that shadowy storefront beside us now. But I had read the words on his sign. Hungry. And I had food.

Maybe I couldn’t understand everything, but I could believe what he was telling me and try to help. “Seriously, Lena.”

“Fine.” She buckled her seat belt and put the car in gear. “Fucking bleeding heart.”

Then she winked at me, and everything was okay again.

CHAPTER

9

WHEN MICHAEL HAD his first business trip, just two nights, I was acutely conscious of the exact amount of time I’d have to fill. The first day’s plan was simple. I’d pick up Elizabeth, we’d stuff the formal invitations for the fund raiser, and then we’d check out one of the proposed venues and have an early dinner there.

Outside her house, I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened before I could. The Elizabeth I saw was not one I knew. She was wearing yoga pants and a boatneck T-shirt, but her feet were bare and her hair looked tangled and uncombed. Her eyes searched my face, and she reached out with both hands for mine and drew me inside. “I’m so sorry. I meant to call. I can’t—I mean, thank you for coming, but I’m not ready …”

She trailed off, and we stood, her icy hands clasping mine for a minute.

“It’s no problem,” I said. Her eyes were unfocused, as though she was also nervous about looking at me. What could be wrong? Not drugs, not Elizabeth, and she wasn’t visibly injured. I didn’t give a shit about the Bluebonnet business, I never really had, but I definitely gave a shit about Elizabeth. “Let’s sit down,” I said gently. “You can tell me all about it.”

“Oh God.” She dropped my hands. “I didn’t even offer you coffee or—”

“It’s okay.” I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible. “I’m fine. Let’s just sit.” And I walked over to the white leather sofa and sat down, patting the spot next to me like I was trying to coax a timid child.