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“Yeah, about that.” I hesitate. There’s something to be said about putting words out in the world and making them manifest. If I put my fears out on the table, will they consume me? Will it put a chink in the facade of confidence I’ve spent years building? I inhale deeply and say, “I’m not sure I’m up for it.”

Mom studies me with her clear blue eyes that are so much like mine. “Why?”

“I’m not the type of person who has five- and ten-year plans.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have them.”

“It’s just all so different from before. I really liked my life.”

“I know you did. We funded it. You needed a change.”

“Did I?” I ask, skepticism dripping from my voice.

“Let me put this another way,” Mom says. “You’ve never had to work for anything in your life. It’s time you did. For what it’s worth, Greta’s not the only one at the office that’s bragged on the job you’re doing, you know. What’s brought all this on?”

Shae’s bullshit comment. I shrug. “I see how much work all my big ideas need and how long it will all take, I’m just not sure I’m up for being out of the field for that much and that long.”

Mom nods. “You aren’t going to be stuck in the office. Aren’t you going to New Zealand in a couple of weeks for business?”

“Yes.”

“Figure out your limit of office time and schedule trips before you reach the end of your rope. Give the office a year, OK?”

“A year?” My palms start sweating at the mere idea of being inside for a year.

“It’ll go by faster than you think.”

I finally hear something she said moments ago. “Other people have said I’m doing a good job?” I ask, hating how hopeful and needy my voice sounds.

Mom smiles at me. “Yes, and I’m not surprised one bit. I knew putting you in charge was the right decision. I’m very proud of you,” Mom says quietly.

I can’t help my little yelp of astonishment. Mom never compliments me. “Wha…how did you…what in the world made you think I could do this?”

“You like to exude this whole air of chill mountain woman, but no one can be as good as you are at what you do without being careful and diligent and completely focused.” She looks at me full on, with the same half-smile that Greta does so well. “You’re more like me, and Greta, than you want to admit.”

I turn away quickly so she doesn’t see the tears that well in my eyes. I’m not sure why I’m crying. Is it because I’ve somehow managed to get Greta and Mom’s approval, or is the idea that I’m anything like them so horrifying it makes me want to weep. I need to talk to Audrey about this.

That stops me. It’s the first time I’ve thought of her first in an emotionally charged situation that didn’t involve her, but as soon as the initial shock is over, I know that it’s absolutely right. She’s who I want to talk to for her advice, her feedback. To watch as she listens to me, her face a study in focus and concentration on me, and only me, and my problem, as if it’s the most important thing in the world to her.

As if I’m the most important thing in the world to her.

I’m staring at Audrey while I think all of this. She catches me staring and smiles, then pulls a dorky face. I laugh.

“She’s good for you,” Mom says.

“Yeah. Greta said that last night.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, so you’re the reason Greta is suddenly so zen about me and Audrey?”

Mom shrugs one shoulder. “Well, I didn’t hurt the situation.” Mom sips her mulled wine. “Your dad and I approve.”

A huge grin spreads across my face. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

“She is. She reminds me of your sister.”

“What? No way. Gross, Mom.”