"It's okay."
"It's not, but thank you for saying it. Send me a picture? Promise me. Dana said she'd send some of Kenzie, but I want one of you. Just you."
"I promise."
Behind her the kitchen door opened. Dana stood there with a wineglass in her hand, the glasses pushed back up into her new honey hair, smiling her real-estate smile.
"Is that Mark? Put him on speaker, hon."
Junie didn't. For one second she didn't. Then she did, because she always did, because three years had taught her exactly how much a second like that cost.
"Hi, baby," Dana said, leaning over the phone. "God, you sound exhausted."
"Hey, Dane. Yeah, long day."
"We miss you. The girls miss you. Kenzie looks like an angel, I'm sending you pictures. And Junie's just been working so hard on her little project, haven't you, hon?" Her hand landed on Junie's shoulder. It felt like a paperweight. "We'll see how she feels tomorrow. Some people just aren't dance people, and that's okay. Right?"
"Right," said Mark, uncertainly, far away.
"Okay, baby, go to sleep. Love you. Bye-bye."
She hung up for him. She handed Junie the phone, and then she looked at the kitchen, at the clean counter and the glasses in the rack and the swept floor, and she nodded slightly, like an inspector.
"You missed a spot," she said, pointing at nothing in particular, and went back to the den.
* * *