I stood at the counter measuring grounds into the stainless filter while my mother arranged warm raspberry pastries on a porcelain platter.

“Did you happen to see the small brass badge in my coat pocket last night?” I asked, sliding the glass carafe into place.

“It came in the mail from the state structural engineering board.”

My mother didn’t turn around.

She used silver tongs to move a pastry two inches to the left, lining it up with the rim of the dish.

“I’m sure it’s very nice, dear,” she said.