“Why did you treat me like that on the plane?” I asked.

“You could have just sent me an anonymous letter.”

Clara looked down at the table for a moment.

She traced the edge of a water glass with her thumb.

“I took your seat because I needed you to hate me,” she said.

“You wanted a public fight.”

“I needed a public rift,” Clara said.

“Everyone in the office knew you stayed out of the business.