They stood together until a delivery truck rolled past the corner and splashed rainwater against the curb. Megan returned to her binder. Lauren went home carrying Nessa’s card in her coat pocket. Neither had asked the other to become a friend or offered a slogan about solidarity. They had told each other the truth and returned to the work waiting for them.

Chapter Ten: Morning Work

The next morning, Megan was at the restaurant before the breakfast staff arrived. Hassan had prepared a list of guests who needed refunds and workers who needed payment. He had also gathered the flowers, costume, and promotional materials from the back room so they wouldn’t be accidentally reused. The florist could repurpose the flowers if she wanted. The blue dress could be returned to its maker after the invoice was settled. Nobody needed it as a souvenir.

Reid arrived at nine, looking as though he’d slept in his car. He asked whether Megan had come to punish him by taking control of the accounts.

“I came to pay people,” she answered. “That’s what this business owes them.”

Hassan handed Reid the list. Two suppliers were awaiting overdue payments unrelated to the event. Priya had worked additional hours preparing the room. The photographer wanted his agreed fee. The videographers had shown up for a booking that was canceled at the last moment. Reid stared at the names as though seeing the labor behind the evening for the first time.

“This could destroy the launch,” he said.

“The launch never had everyone’s consent,” Megan replied. “You can design a new one that does.”

He tried to explain how valuable the concept might become. Hassan listened, then asked whether Reid would finish the refunds before ordering anything else. For once the discussion returned to a practical task that couldn’t be solved by an inspiring phrase.

Meanwhile, Lauren called the clinic where she worked as a medical receptionist and requested a meeting about reducing her hours later in the year. She did not resign or announce that she would become a designer. She asked what was possible. Her supervisor told her the clinic needed three months to arrange coverage but could consider a four-day schedule. Lauren thanked her and wrote down the details. In the afternoon she visited a local theater’s costume shop and asked whether volunteers were needed. The designer there, a blunt woman named Odessa, looked at photographs of Lauren’s old sewing projects and said the theater needed someone who could repair hems without complaining about impossible deadlines.

“I can complain quietly,” Lauren said.

“Then you’ll fit right in.”

It was the first time in weeks she had laughed without checking who noticed.

Owen spent the day at work repairing a damaged sidewalk near an elementary school. He kept remembering the way Reid had asked, Will you take the next step with me tonight? The audacity of the question still angered him. But another image kept intruding: Lauren sitting at the kitchen table, admitting she didn’t know what she wanted. He had wanted certainty from her, perhaps because he had so little of his own. At lunch he called his lawyer and asked what would happen if they chose a temporary separation without deciding immediately about divorce. She explained the options and cautioned him to avoid treating paperwork as punishment. He thanked her for being plain.