At the end of the night Theo placed the invoice in Landon’s hand, and Landon read every line without complaint. He paid it over the next eight months from his own pay, refusing every offer to cover it. Brielle wrote me a real letter, the first honest thing she had ever handed me, and I kept it.

On Sundays they come to my table now, and Brielle brings the bread, badly baked and proudly carried. The foyer table is still there near the coat check. I walk past it sometimes, no longer smaller for having sat there.