With Anne back at school, and Kit still lost to her in most ways that mattered, Emilia was lonely yet again. She'd taken to coming to First Friday's at the Irvingly Arms during the school year, and if Ned wondered where his mother was on the first Friday of every month, then he hadn't asked her yet.

Her embarrassment about her own sense of being adrift largely applied to her husband, children, and coworkers. Emilia had told Eavan about it, and sometimes her niece joined her, but not every month and tonight Eavan was busy with her own children. And that was good, that was fine, because spending more time with her family wasn't really the point.

She had a usual routine here — Emilia ordered something warm and filling from the kitchens, danced a bit, and waited until all the sounds of everyone being here and vibrantly alive filled up her chest and she went home late in the night, often feeling either younger or older than she actually was. She'd finished her stew and was partway through a pint — but had not danced yet — when Mr. Podmore caught her eye and waved.

Emilia felt invited to take herself and the remaining half of her pint to the other side of the dance floor, where she sidled up to his high-top. She kept her pint in her hands, not feeling entirely invited to join him yet. "Mr. Podmore," she said, "Fancy seeing you at the Arms."