Then I called Ruth and invited her to dinner.

I invited Simone too, and Rosa, who had found work with a family she liked better.

We ate pasta at a crowded table and talked about ordinary things: a nephew’s new bicycle, a neighbor’s dog, a burnt batch of cookies.

At one point the conversation turned to the weather and everyone argued about whether rain would arrive by morning.

I leaned back and listened.

Nobody was testing me.