In the kitchen Denise was already awake, sitting upright with a mug of weak coffee in both hands.
She looked Lauren over with the grave seriousness of a general reviewing troops.
“Very nice,” she said.
“It’s the same blouse from Easter two years ago.”
“It still works.”
Lauren smiled faintly.
Denise took in the dark circles under her eyes.
“You sleep at all?”
“Define sleep.”
“Poorly, then.”
“Very.”
Denise held out her mug and Lauren took a sip.
Too weak.
Too bitter.
Perfect.
“You nervous?” Denise asked.
Lauren laughed once.
“I feel like I’m about to take a final exam I forgot to study for.”
Denise nodded.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Nervous means you still care.”
Lauren set the mug back in her mother’s hands.
“I wish caring paid utilities.”
“It might by tonight.”
Lauren kissed the top of her mother’s head and grabbed her bag.
The office was downtown in a brick building with big windows and a lobby that smelled like coffee beans and printer paper.
