I smiled. I shook hands. I shelved the thought that my mother and I would ever again have a heart-to-heart.

The next day I called Dustin in San Francisco. I wasn’t sure if I could confide in her, since we so rarely did that kind of thing, but I was willing to try. The scene with Evan was eating at my insides, clawing its way to the surface.

“Hi, Billy!” Dustin said, sounding pleased to hear from me. I’d caught her at home for once.

“How’s Robert?” I said, asking after her husband.

“He’s on a golf trip.” She laughed wryly. “Remember how dad used to golf all the time?”

I blinked at the mention of our father. “No.” I had no recollection of my father ever holding a putter or even talking about golf. And that realization made me sad. He was gone from me in so many ways. Physically, of course, for over twenty years, but since that morning I woke up with the frog on my nightstand and with everything changed, he’d been gone from my heart, too. I really didn’t miss him anymore. I didn’t wonder why he’d left. But somehow I missed the missing of him. I was starting to realize that my old obsessing, my never-getting-over-him had been the way I held on to him. He was really and truly gone now.

“Oh, well,” Dustin said, onto a different topic. “What’s going on with you? I hear you’re a big VP now.”

“Yes, it’s true. I got promoted.”

“My little sister! A vice president! I’m so proud.”

“Thanks, Dustin.” But the congratulations was bittersweet; hearing the words now reminded me that she hadn’t even called or e-mailed to congratulate me on my promotion when it first happened. Not that I needed her approval, but the lack of it reminded me how distant we were. So I knew I couldn’t tell her about Evan. After a few minutes of mindless conversation, we were off the phone.

Which brought me back to my dad. He might have been the one family member I could have talked to about this. If what Hadley had told me all those years ago was true, he might have understood. Father and daughter, united in guilt.

“What’s it been like?” Alexa said.

“What do you mean?”

“Being vice president. What’s it like?”

We were sitting outside near State and Rush having lunch on a sunny, Friday afternoon. Alexa had called me this time, and after a long, painful week (both emotionally and professionally) I’d quickly cleared my schedule of budgets and board meetings and assistant hand-holding to meet her. I hadn’t been sure why she wanted to meet, a mystery that became even more curious as we ate and chatted. Just chatted. About her brothers and sisters and the silly things they did, about where we went to college and how we got into PR. It was a pleasant experience-especially given the bright, seventy-degree day, the crowds strolling the street and my desperate need for a girlfriend. This afternoon was small relief from my agitated mind. But at the same time, I kept waiting for the Mexican curses to fall, for a quick turn of Alexa’s suddenly engaging personality.

But now this question about my new position. This was why she’d called, I supposed, and although Alexa was the last person I wanted to have this discussion with, I thought I owed it to her.

“It’s all right,” I answered.

“Just all right?” She shook her hair away from her face, and I noticed two guys at the next table staring openly. When she wasn’t putting on her tough-PR-girl image, she was gorgeous.

“The role is not exactly what I thought it would be.”

“What did you think it would be?” Alexa leaned forward.

I shifted around in my chair. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful about the vice presidency, but I really did want to talk to someone, especially someone in the PR world.

“Being a VP is a bit dull,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m not. I thought it would be more exciting and glamorous, but I miss my old job a hell of a lot.”

“Why?”

“I miss the creativity. My new job is all administrative, all the time. It’s looking at the P &L sheets and going to officers’ meetings and arguing about the damn pop machine and making personnel decisions.”

I stopped short, realizing I was sitting on State Street with one of those personnel decisions.

But Alexa blew right by it. “That’s what’s exciting about it!” she said. And indeed, she looked excited just by the topic. “You’re getting to focus the direction of the firm. You’re making real decisions about which of the firm’s resources to put where. That’s power.” I dropped my head a little. Here in front of me was someone clearly cut out to be a VP at Harper Frankwell, someone who would have relished it as much as she succeeded in it.

“I suppose you’re right,” I said in a weak voice.

“It’s absolutely true. That power is something to be respected. Most of the people I grew up with will never know that kind of power.”

Her talk embarrassed me. My new power had led me like a stumbling drunk bent on breaking something. What I’d broken was Alexa’s career. “Any luck with the job search?”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that. Someday I might thank you for firing me.”

“God, I’d really like that.” We both chuckled. “But why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “Not working every day is making me think. And what I think is that I really want to open my own PR firm like I mentioned before, one that will work primarily with Hispanic people and businesses.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Well…” She shook her head discouragingly. “It’s great that I know what I want to do, but I really don’t know where to start.”

We sat quietly for a moment. The guys at the next table left, smiling at us. Alexa didn’t even notice. The crowds on State were getting larger as the afternoon grew longer and the sun heavier and more golden.

“So, are you dating someone?” I’m not sure why I asked her that question. I wanted to get off the topic of being a VP, and I guess I was hoping she did have a boyfriend, someone to cushion life’s blows.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You’re married, right Billy?”

“I am.”

“And do you love him?”

Jesus, what a question. “I do. I love him very much.” I looked at my hands in my lap. I let the guilt swim through me. “We’ve had our problems. He was very distant for a long time, and I sort of let it stay that way.” I noticed, in the back of my brain, that I was talking about very intimate things with Alexa, of all people. “And then we had the opposite problem. We got too close. He was around all the time, and I couldn’t seem to get enough space from him. And I made some mistakes.”

“Sounds tricky.”

“It is.”

Alexa smiled a little. “You know who I always had a thing for?” “Who?”

“Evan O’Reilly.”

At his name, my body tingled, then the acid churned in my stomach. Still, I could feel his hands on my face, the back of my neck, my breasts.

“Really?” I said, trying for nonchalance. I couldn’t imagine the two of them together. Evan went for thin, waspy girls much younger than him, and Alexa…well, Evan just didn’t seem her type. But then I suppose a hot blond guy is most women’s type.

“I think he’s very smart,” Alexa said. “I like the way he thinks about things. Like when he’s in those pitch meetings?”

“You mean when he’s always calling Roslyn ‘Roz’?”

“Oh, I do hate that,” Alexa said, laughing. “But no, I like how he listens to people. He sits back and watches the conversation and takes it all in. When he opens his mouth, you respect what he says because it’s thoughtful. Have you ever noticed that?”

“I suppose.” I was usually too busy noticing Evan’s pecs beneath his French blue shirts.

“And he’s nice to everyone,” Alexa continued. “In a genuine way, I mean.” She looked embarrassed. “I don’t know what I’m going on about.”