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“That’s what I told my family,” Sadie laughed.

“Are you close with your family?”

“I’m notnotclose with them, if that makes sense. I just don’t have much in common with them. Everyone’s very ‘marriage, house, kids, corporate office job.’ I don’t visit a lot, but I talk to my parents every week on the phone.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and started to say something else. When she hesitated, Joan prompted, “What?”

“Nothing. Just that talking to them is usually my mom worrying about how dangerous it is in the city. And my dad and sister like to point out all the things a smart girl like me could be doing with her life.”

Joan groaned at that.

Sadie tucked one of her tendrils of hair behind an ear. “It’s like nobody trusts me to make my own decisions, so I keep making bad decisions despite not wanting to. It’s a cycle I can’t seem to get out of.” She scrunched her nose. “Sorry, that was kind of deep.”

“No, I get it.”

“It’s like, maybe if I had a little support, I’d be more confident. It’s hard to stand by what I want when there’s a part of me that knows no one will approve.”

Joan nodded. “That makes total sense.”

“Does it feel like that with your food truck dream?” Sadie asked, swirling the wine in her glass.

“More than you know.”

She wanted to share just how much she understood, but right now it was more important to show Sadie she supported her.

“Does your family know about your plans for Sadie’s Café?” Joan wondered.

“I’ve told them I’d like to open my own coffeehouse. They think that means I want to be a barista for the rest of my life. They don’t really get it. They keep waiting for me to get arealjob and makerealmoney.”

“Live an ordinary life,” Joan said.

“Exactly.”

“You enjoy what you do. That means more than a paycheck.”

Sadie gestured with her wineglass. “See? That’s what I try to explain to them. Who cares if I want to be a barista? I like my life. I like what I do.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“Thank you.”

Joan set the steak in the hot cast-iron skillet. It sizzled on contact.

Living an ordinary life meant very different things when one was about a corporate office job and the other was not having people flee in terror because you shoot fire. Funny how Sadie thrived on being extraordinary. Joan had a lot of days where she wished for a slice of ordinary.

Sadie cleared her throat. “I know it’s none of my business, and you totally don’t have to answer, but…” She adjusted on the stool. “How do Supers make a living? Do you get paid by the city or something? I’ve always wondered how you can afford to, like, buy food, and pay for rent and utilities.”

The honest answer was: “Supers are given everything for free. Whatever they want. The city and its people are very generous to their heroes.”

“Oh. I was thinking there’s a line item in the annual budget for Superhero salaries.”

“There should be one for Superhero damages,” Joan muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I have to preheat the oven for these dinner rolls.”

She washed the raw meat and oil off her hands to end that line of conversation. She couldn’t pretend like it was okay that the Supers cruised into any place in the city and walked out with bags of freebies. Or were all too happy to ask for an unlimited allowance from the mayor.Take, take, take.