“The whole afternoon?”

“Daddy was talking to a lady on the car speakers,” she said.

She watched a clump of white foam drift slowly toward the chrome drain plug.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do judges get mad when kids say the wrong thing in big rooms?”

I stopped pouring and pressed my thumb to the inside of my wrist, feeling the fast, hard beat of my pulse under the skin.

“Why are you asking about judges, Sophie?”