Of course she had.
Now this little girl stood in front of her, looking straight through the polished version of Claire Bennett that had fooled almost everyone.
“Sometimes,” Claire admitted, “I guess I am a little sad.”
The girl nodded as if Claire had confirmed something obvious.
“Are you lonely?”
Claire looked away.
That question was worse.
“Sometimes.”
“Me too.”
Claire looked back.
The girl lifted the teddy bear.
“This is Mr. Buttons. I’m Maggie.”
“Nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Claire.”
Maggie pointed across the park.
“That’s my daddy.”
A man sat on another bench with a phone pressed to his ear. He looked about Claire’s age, maybe a few years older, wearing jeans, a plain dark jacket, and the exhausted expression of someone trying to solve three problems at the same time.
He kept rubbing his forehead while listening.
Maggie sighed.
“He works a lot.”
Claire glanced at her own phone.
“I know something about that.”
“He says work is important.”
“It is.”
Maggie frowned.
“But people are important too.”
Claire felt that sentence settle somewhere uncomfortable.
“Also true.”
