Isabelle arrived on a Friday.
I knew this the way I knew most things about the timeline from Jade, who had the specific quality of a person managing multiple emotional investments simultaneously and keeping careful track of all of them. She didn't text this time. She called Thursday evening while I was in the Cobble Hill kitchen finishing the week's prep, her voice carrying the careful neutrality of someone who had decided that information delivery was an act of care.
"She landed an hour ago," Jade said.
"How do you know?"
"She texted me. She's staying in a hotel in Midtown firm's putting her up. She said she'd love to have dinner sometime while she's here." A pause. "I said yes. Because she's Isabelle and I'm not capable of saying no to Isabelle."
"You shouldn't say no," I said. "She
