“The Buick purred like a kitten,” I said, sliding into my chair behind the glass partition.

“And how did the dress trip go?”

“It was perfect,” I said.

“Sadie found herself an emerald gown at Chloe’s shop.”

Ben stopped, his yellow highlighter hanging half an inch above a patient chart.

He looked at me over the top of his lenses, searching my face for the exhaustion he’d seen there every morning for the past month.

“Did your ex-husband call you after his mother put that picture on the internet?” Ben asked.

“He called four times Saturday afternoon,” I said.