Clara puts on her mittens and I put on my hat that isn’t nearly as wintery warm as hers. I’m not going to complain about my heels and the cold weather though, since that’s opening myself up for more ridicule.
A group of four men sitting on a bench outside a store called the Handyman Haven stare at us as we walk past.
Clara tugs on the sleeve of my coat and nods. “Let’s go toward the bay.”
I follow her, and neither of us says anything for a long time.
“Do you really want the building?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m still deciding. I’m still processing, to be honest.”
She stops, and I do the same to see if she’s okay. “Did you know?”
“Know that I was adopted?”
She nods.
“Yeah. Did you know about me?” I ask.
Her shoulders sink. “I knew nothing. Nothing at all. Mom mentioned in her letter
