“Both of us. She didn’t want to at first. Then she did.”
“And?”
“And I’m learning that spoiling somebody isn’t the same as loving them. And she’s learning that a watch can’t outrun a ghost.” He paused. “Her father’s dealership. All that.”
Eleanor set the plate in the rack. “Counseling is work. Work is good. Don’t bring me progress reports like homework. Live the work.”
He almost smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
In late November, rain took the jacaranda’s last purple. Eleanor was in the grocery store choosing yams when she turned her cart and found Sloan at the end of the aisle in a camel coat, gold hoops smaller than the birthday ones, face scrubbed of the smugness that had once seemed permanent. For a second neither woman moved. Then Sloan pushed her cart forward until they were close enough to speak without the whole store hearing.