“Dad, look,” Sophie said, pointing a sticky finger at the middle of the cake.

“There’s a star made of silver ones right in the center.”

Adam reached over, plucked a little silver sprinkle off the glass tray and tossed it into his mouth.

“Very nice, sweetie,” he said.

He didn’t sit.

He leaned back against the laminate counter and drummed his fingers on its edge in a quick, restless four-beat pattern.

“How was the drive back from the Oak Brook office?” I asked, putting down a small side plate for him.

“Long,” Adam said.

“Graham kept us until seven-thirty going through the quarterly logistics projections.”

“He did?”

“He asked about you again,” Adam said, laying his fingers flat on the counter for a moment before he started tapping again.

“He remembered you’re the librarian at the elementary school.”

“It’s only a quiet neighborhood school,” I said, rubbing my thumb over my fingernail again.

“There’s not much to tell.”