She called me at 12:40 from her office.

My oldest daughter is twenty-six and she had been a licensed attorney for eight months at that point, at a four-lawyer family practice in Sacramento, doing custody and support work, which is the field she chose at nineteen and which everybody in our family understood without anybody saying anything about it.

She said, “Dad.

Did you answer her?”

“No.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay.”