“Oslo,” she said, without looking up, without a half-second’s pause.

“Show-off,” I told her.

And Edith Ledbetter smiled — a small, surprised, rusty smile, the smile of a person who has not been teased with any affection in a very long time and had forgotten how it felt.

It was the first time I had seen her smile at all.

I think that was the moment something shifted between us, though neither of us said so.

I was not trying to earn anything from her.