hair hung limp, framing bloodshot eyes. Her skin had a grayish tone.

“Susan,” I asked, “you okay?”

She sighed. “As okay as any of us.”

“You look awful.”

“Thanks. I love you, too.”

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“So who asked you to love me?” Her shoulders caved, and she let go of her menu. “You’re right, though. I’ve been a mess since Claudia. And now—Tamara? I adore those girls, Zoe.” Her eyes filled. “It’s just too much. I haven’t slept—I stay up thinking all night. About who took them. If they suffered. You know.”

I knew. We sat, silent and hurting.

“I didn’t know that Coach Gene asked Tamara out,” I finally said.

“Oh, please, Zoe. He asks them all out. Coach Gene likes anything that wiggles.”

“Coach Gene likes what, Mom?” Molly’s ears had perked up.

“He likes wiggles,” Emily explained. “You know.” She began, of course, to wiggle. Molly joined her, erupting into squirming giggles.

“Girls,” I rubbed my temples. “You’re shaking the booth.” “Emily,” Susan barked. “Sit still.”

The girls quieted, stifling laughter, and Susan and I settled back into our glumness.

“Last time I saw Tamara, she talked about you,” Susan said.

“About me?”

“She said she admired you. Called you a survivor.” Now I was the one blinking away tears. “A lot of single people adopt—”

“Why do you assume it’s about that? We were talking about strong women. She used you as an example of an old soul, strong because of—I don’t know—something about knowing how to flow with life instead of fighting it. Anyhow, she thought you must have lived many lives.”

What was she talking about? “Tamara’s always been a flake.”

“She said I should learn from you. That I waste energy by fighting battles that can’t be won.”

Then again, maybe not such a flake.

“Mom—I can’t find the cup.” Molly shoved the place mat in front of me.

“I’ll show you,” Emily offered. “Here’s a hint. Look near his tail.”

Molly continued to search. “How come you can find everything?”

“Cuz I’m older than you.” “When’s your birthday?”

Their conversation went on, traveling its separate path, occasionally crossing ours. Molly opened her mouth to display her loose baby tooth, Emily to introduce two emerging permanent ones.

“By the way, I asked Ed about your detective.” Ed was a cop, one of Susan’s pals in Homicide.

My detective? “Stiles?” I saw him at my door, his eyes sizing me up. I still hadn’t found out why he’d called. He hadn’t called back. Maybe he hadn’t gotten my message. I should try to call again.

“He’s new in town. A hotshot from Baltimore. Has degrees in criminology and psychology and every other ology Ed could think of, and he’s heading the nanny investigation, which has all the guys who are senior to him, which is basically everybody, pretty pissed off. Apparently, he does things his own way or no way, isn’t exactly a cop’s cop. But he’s supposed to be smart.”

“So what did Ed say about the finger?”

Susan’s voice was flat. Listless. “They haven’t matched the print yet, but Ed said it’s gotta be one of the nannies’. I didn’t say this to the others, but the cops figure those girls are dead.”

Tamara blinked from behind the sugar bowl. I looked away, at Emily and Molly. They were engrossed in their games, holding their parallel conversation, cheerful. Oblivious.

“No wonder you haven’t slept.”

“It’s not only the nannies. I’m stressed out. I scream at the girls. Lisa asks me to help with her homework and I scream. Julie wants a ride somewhere and I scream. I haven’t even started my Christmas shopping. The plumbing leaks upstairs so we’ve got to redo the master bath and the ceiling under it, and we need a new roof. I’ve got those three felony cases, more coming up. My caseload’s staggering. Tim’s out of town again, has to be in L.A. off and on, commuting back and forth, probably through March. Bonita won’t be back until next week, and the sitter who’s filling in has to leave early every day but Thursday, the one day a week I don’t need her to stay. I want to scream.”

I sat with my hands clasped, holding on. As long as I’d known her, Susan had been on overload, managing the many and complicated levels of her life tirelessly, with grace and aplomb. She could be passionate and scathingly articulate, but never frazzled. She could multitask, multitalk, and multithink. She’d been my support during my divorce, the adoption, the millions of times I’d needed a shoulder or a friend. To me, she defined stability, capability,