My thumb pressed harder into the soft skin of my wrist.

“You never have to worry about judges or big rooms, Sophie.

That’s grown-up business.”

She didn’t answer.

She reached over the porcelain rim of the tub, pulled her gray stuffed rabbit off the counter, and wrapped her wet arms around its plush body.

I dried Sophie off with a white bath towel, put her in her flannel pajamas, and tucked her into bed before eight.

Saturday morning brought a low gray sky over West Hartford.