As we sat at the undersized cafeteria tables, Robert leaned down and whispered to her, “You deliver the truth very directly, don’t you?”

Lily leaned in, whispering back conspiratorially. “Mommy says being direct is always better than being sneaky.”

Robert straightened, looking across the sticky table at me. I raised my tiny styrofoam coffee cup in a silent toast. The corners of his mouth twitched into a genuine, if small, smile.

That night, as a thunderstorm rolled over the Atlanta skyline, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a text from my father. “She is a truly good kid.”

I typed back, “Yes. She is the best.”