Arthur smiled with tight, polite lips and adjusted his rimless glasses.

“A high-risk pregnancy needs quiet, Vivian.

Leave the numbers to the men who’ve managed them for thirty years.”

I held out Arthur’s gold-stamped badge.

“The quarterly audit is thirty-four days late, Arthur.”

Eleanor took the badge from my fingers and pinned it to Arthur’s lapel herself, her nails clicking against the brass backing.

“Ignore her, Arthur.

The doctor warned us that exhaustion before the birth makes her fixate on the strangest details.”