“Everyone needs protection from something.”

“That sounds like a Moretti family motto.”

“It should be.”

She opened the rear door.

“Isabella would like to see you.”

“I’ve just lost my job.”

“She knows.”

“Of course she does.”

Elena’s expression softened.

“You can say no.”

The choice surprised me.

I looked toward Toby’s school.

He would not be out for another hour.

“One conversation.”

Isabella met me at a small Italian bakery on Taylor Street.

No ballroom.

No chandeliers.

Just warm air, fogged windows, and the scent of sugar and espresso.

She sat in a corner booth wearing a blue coat and a silk scarf tied over her silver hair.

“You look angry,” she said.

“I got fired.”

“So I heard.”

“Does everyone in your family receive news before I do?”

“Usually.”

She pushed a plate of almond cookies toward me.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want sympathy.”

“Good. I was offering pastry.”

I sat across from her.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke.

Then Isabella said, “The foundation needs a community outreach coordinator.”

I looked at her.

“You have not heard the job.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You need work.”

“I need work I earned.”

“You think I offer employment to everyone who helps me?”

“I think you feel guilty.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“I am many things, Sophie. Careless with hiring is not one of them.”

I leaned back.

“What would the job involve?”

“Meeting families. Reviewing emergency requests. Helping people navigate clinics, landlords, schools, insurance offices.”

“That sounds like social work.”

“It is adjacent to it. You would work under someone licensed while completing training.”

“I don’t have a degree.”

“You have two years of college.”

I stared at her.

“How do you know that?”

She looked toward the bakery window.

My unease returned.

“Why does your family know so much about me?”

Isabella’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup.

“Because we knew your mother.”

The bakery noise seemed to fall away.

“You knew my mother?”

“Not well.”

“My mother never mentioned you.”

“She may not have known my name.”

I leaned forward.

“What are you talking about?”

Isabella glanced toward the entrance.

Elena stood near the counter, pretending to study a menu.