Elena opened the door holding the metal arm of a lamp.
For a moment Mara thought it was something she had taken down in anger. Then she saw the little screw pinched between Elena's finger and thumb.
“It's the switch,” Elena said. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
Elena looked past her at the car.
“He's out.”
“I came to see you.”
“All right.”
She let Mara pass. On the kitchen table a dish towel held the lamp's base, its shade and a small collection of screws. Beside them was a plate with one crust of toast on it. Elena had been doing this while Mara sat with Bev and Priya looking at a piece of paper. The idea of the two mornings existing at the same time seemed impossible now.
“I've got something to tell you,” Mara said.
“If it's about yesterday, I haven't got much to add.”
“It's about the tickets.”
Elena put the metal arm on the dish towel. The little screw remained between her fingers.
“I don't want my two dollars back again.”
“We've won.”
“Have we?”
“The top line. All the numbers.”
Elena looked at her. Mara waited for her to understand, for the change she had seen on Priya's face. She had imagined it in the car. Elena's mouth opening, her hand coming up, the two of them laughing because something enormous and wonderful had happened and neither could keep it to herself.
“How much?” Elena asked.
“The jackpot. The hundred and eighty-six.”
“Million.”
“Yes.”
“Mara.”
“I know.”
“Show me.”
Mara took out her phone and opened the photograph. Elena held it flat on the table, beside the pieces of the lamp, then asked for the results page. She did not read the numbers aloud. Her eyes moved between the two images. She let the little screw fall into the upturned lamp base, where it made a surprisingly clear sound.
“You've got the real one?”
“At mine. Bev and Priya are there.”
Elena touched the screen, enlarging the ticket until one number filled half of it. She made it small again.
“That's our line.”
“Yes.”
She sat down. Mara began to sit opposite, then stopped when Elena lifted her head.
“Did you tell them about yesterday?”
“Not all of it.”
“Which part?”
“Elena, we've won. Whatever happened—”
“Which part did you tell them?”
Mara pulled out the chair and sat. The chair leg was loose; it shifted slightly under her weight. She had sat on it for years and had begun to move with it without thinking.
“I told them you're in.”
Elena looked down at the ticket photograph.
“I left the chat.”
“I saw.”
“You told me I was out.”
“I was angry.”
“I noticed.”
Mara reached across for her phone, then left it where it was. She could not bear the thought of Elena handing it back as though the win belonged on the other side of the table.
“I'm telling you now,” she said. “I don't want any of that. I shouldn't have done it. You're one of us.”
Elena's eyes were wet. Mara felt relief rise so quickly that she almost took her hand.
“Did you say that before you saw the numbers?” Elena asked.
“That's not fair.”
“I had two dollars yesterday, and you still found a way to use them.”
“I came here to make it right.”
“I know.”
“Then let me.”
In the garden a bird began repeating one note. Elena looked toward it, blinking, and wiped the side of her face with the heel of her hand.
“Don't cry,” Mara said.
“I can cry if I want to. We've apparently got money for tissues.”
Mara laughed before she could stop herself. Elena made a small noise that might have become a laugh too, then covered her eyes.
For a while Mara let her be. She looked at the lamp, at the brass screw that had fallen into the base. She remembered buying it with Elena on a wet Sunday when both of them had said they needed nothing. Daniel had come out to the car and asked which one of them was opening a junk shop. Elena had switched it on after he went to bed, and the two women had sat in its light eating the expensive cookies they had pretended were for visitors.
“I don't know what to do,” Elena said at last.
Mara leaned forward. “You don't have to do anything this minute.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I'm not sure of anything. Bev's at my kitchen table wearing an earring shaped like a leaf and one of her little pearls. I don't think she knows.”
Elena looked up. Her mouth moved at one corner.
“Don't tell her.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Let her have it.”
They smiled at each other. Mara wanted to stretch the small good moment over the whole morning. She could get cups. Elena could put the lamp together. They could call the others and hear Jo cry again. There would be arrangements to make, but pleasant ones, for once. Nobody would have to say there was no point wanting that much.
“I'd better tell Daniel,” she said.
Elena's face changed.
“I'll tell him.”
“Of course. I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
Mara sat back. The loose chair moved, and she caught the edge of the table.
“It doesn't have to be another argument.”
“I'm not arguing.”
“I told them you're in. That's all. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Did you tell them you'd given me the money back?”
Mara shook her head.
“And you don't want me to.”
“I don't see what good it would do.”
“They might.”
Mara looked at the doorway. There was nobody there. Daniel's keys were not on their hook, so he could not be arriving without making some sort of noise. She wished she did not keep thinking about him.
“Please,” she said.
Elena turned the phone face down on the table. When she spoke again, it was without the dry little edge Mara had been defending herself against.
“Come on Thursday.”
“I said I would.”
“Not to see what he's going to say. Not to have lunch and work out which bit he can manage. Come for me.”
“I was coming for you.”
“You went to him first.”
Mara pressed her lips together. She had carried her plate to the sink after Daniel fed her. He had charged her phone. She had not gone there to choose against anyone. That was why it was so difficult to explain how it had happened without sounding as if it couldn't happen again.
“I've got a room,” Elena said. “I've paid for it. I don't need you to find me somewhere with a nicer window.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You would.”
Mara almost smiled. Elena did not.
“I could get there on my own. I want you there when I go. I want somebody in your family to be next to me instead of standing in his kitchen waiting for me to feel better.”
Mara looked down at her hands. There was a nick beside one thumbnail where the skin had caught on a pillowcase seam. Elena used to carry tiny bandages in her work bag. They all asked her for them, though they were perfectly capable of buying their own.
“He'll say it's the money,” Elena said. “He'll say I wanted a different life when I could afford one. You were there yesterday. You can tell him I asked you before.”
“He knows.”
“Then don't help him forget.”
The bird stopped. From the front of the house came the sound of a car door, and both women looked toward the hall. It was the neighbor going out. The engine started and moved away.
Mara said, “So you won't tell them if I come.”
Elena met her eyes. There was no way to make it a prettier thing than the thing Mara had asked.
“If you come for me,” she said.
“You're making a deal.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt. Mara had expected Elena to deny it, to explain that of course she wouldn't tell them, that they were friends and nobody ought to make friends pay for being angry. But she had asked for the silence.
She thought of Jo on the phone, trying to stop crying so that her children wouldn't come looking. Of Priya bringing her warm breakfast because she had not known whether she would be able to leave it. Of Bev putting on the wrong earrings and coming upstairs for a future that might finally include her knees.
“Thursday,” Mara said. “Two o'clock. I'll bring the car.”
Elena looked at her for a long moment.
“I've got bags. We don't need boxes.”
“All right.”
“And I'm not taking half the house.”
“All right.”
Mara wanted to say that they could buy whatever she needed. She heard it forming and did not say it. Elena picked up the lamp arm, turned it once, then put it down again.
“I was going to take this,” she said. “Stupid thing. I've spent more on switches than it cost.”
“It was six dollars.”
“Eight.”
“He wanted eight.”
“And you said six, and then you said the shade was worth two on its own. I paid eight.”
“It looks nice when it's on,” Mara said.
“It does.”
Elena stood and filled the kettle. Mara reached for the mugs, then stopped, letting her choose them. Elena took the ones they always used. When she put Mara's down, she moved it away from the screws without saying anything.
“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.
“No. Thank you.”
“Are you sure? Apparently you've got a lot of milk at home.”
Mara looked up, and Elena's smile was small and tired and still her own.
“He told you.”
“It's a small house.”
Mara laughed. For one moment it was as easy as it had been yesterday before anybody asked her for a day and a time. Then Elena turned to get the tea, and Mara stayed in her chair, waiting for the cup to come to her.