“What is it?”
Tiana looked up.
“I think the man from the restaurant owns the restaurant.”
Dorothy blinked.
“That sounds like either a blessing or a problem.”
“I don’t know which.”
Dorothy’s mouth curved.
“Then put on the blazer.”
“Mama.”
“If life sends a car at nine in the morning, you do not answer the door in yesterday’s sorrow.”
Tiana laughed despite herself.
Then she cried.
Just a little.
At exactly 9:00 a.m., a black town car pulled up in front of the building.
Tiana stood at the window in her only professional outfit.
Navy blazer.
Pressed black slacks.
Low heels she had not worn in years.
Small pearl earrings from her medical school days.
Her curls were pulled back neatly.
Her hands would not stop smoothing the front of her blazer.
Mrs. Chen sat at the kitchen table with Dorothy, waving her off like a general.
“Go,” Mrs. Chen said. “I have tea. I have instructions. I have your mother telling me what I’m doing wrong already.”
Dorothy lifted her chin.
“Because you put too much water in oatmeal.”
Mrs. Chen rolled her eyes.
Tiana kissed her mother’s forehead.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Come back with good news,” Dorothy said.
“I don’t know if that’s what this is.”
“Then come back with your head up.”
The ride took her through the city she knew by bus stops and overdue errands.
This time, she saw it from the back seat of a quiet car with bottled water in the door and leather so soft she was afraid to touch it.
The Whitaker office sat on the upper floors of a glass building overlooking the river.
No real warmth from the outside.
Just steel, windows, and money.
But when the elevator opened, the first sound she heard was Lila’s voice.
“Tiana!”
Lila sat near a wide window in her wheelchair, a sketchbook open across her lap.
Her cast was covered with tiny stickers.
A tall glass of strawberry lemonade sat on the table beside her.
At nine-thirty in the morning.
Tiana smiled before she could stop herself.
“Strawberry lemonade before lunch?”
Lila grinned.
“I have connections.”
“I see that.”
“And Crash has a cape now.”
She turned the sketchbook around.
Crash the Cat now wore a crooked cape, one side longer than the other.
His front paw was raised.
Underneath, Lila had written: Not broken. In training.
Tiana’s throat tightened.
“That is excellent character development.”
Lila beamed.
“My dad’s on a call. He said I could start without him.”
“Start what?”
“Convincing you to stay.”
Tiana blinked.
Before she could answer, Miles stepped into the waiting area.
No overcoat today.
Just a charcoal suit, open collar, tired eyes.
“Lila,” he said gently.
“What? You said we were going to ask.”
“I said I was going to speak with Miss Brooks.”
Lila looked at Tiana.
“Adults make everything take longer.”
Tiana laughed softly.
Miles smiled, but his expression carried weight.
“Miss Brooks, thank you for coming.”
“Tiana is fine.”
“Then please call me Miles.”
He gestured toward a conference room.
“Would you join me for a few minutes?”
Tiana glanced at Lila.
“I’ll watch Crash,” Lila said solemnly. “He gets nervous in meetings.”
Inside the conference room, the city spread out below them.
Tiana stayed standing.
So did Miles.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Finally, Tiana said, “I only have one question.”
“I imagine you have several.”
“Why am I here?”
Miles nodded slowly, as if he had expected that.
“Because last night I saw my daughter laugh for the first time in months.”
Tiana’s guarded expression did not change.
“I’m glad. But that doesn’t explain this.”
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
He slid a folder across the table.
