“I’m directing an animated short—a small but important project for me. We’ve cast most of the roles, but I haven’t found anyone who works for me for the key. It’s about a search for personal identity, finding your place in a chaotic world, and making that place matter. Have you ever done voice work?”

“No, I—”

“Sorry, I keep interrupting, but I just recognized you. You’re Caitlyn Sullivan.”

Her shoulders wanted to hunch, but he grinned, so open and delighted, she felt herself relax again.

Before she could speak, he plowed on.

“This is, well, kismet. I’ve admired your work, but I had no idea you had this kind of voice talent. I’d love to send you the script. In fact, I’m going to give you the script. I was just having lunch with my producers, and going over some things. Wait.”

He got up, went back to the table where a man and a woman sat, grabbed a script, came back.

“Take this one, and my card.” He pulled out a card case, scribbled on one of the cards. “That’s my personal line. It’s a small project, and I could only pay you scale, but it’s an important one. I won’t keep you, but read it. Just read it, and get back to me. Great meeting you, nice seeing you.”

When he started back to his table, the other two rose. They glanced back at Cate before they left.

“That was . . . very surreal.”

“Don’t say no. Read the script,” Darlie insisted. “He comes off a little jumpy and intense, but Boyd West has a solid reputation. He directs small, vibrant jewels. And you do have talent, Cate. You’ve had some really shitty runs, but that doesn’t mean you waste what you have.”

“But I don’t know anything about voice work.”

“You’ve got an amazingly fluid voice, you can act. West is a good director. If the script has any appeal for you, what have you got to lose?” Smiling, Darlie nibbled on another leaf. “Kismet.”

Cate didn’t know about kismet, but she knew a good script when she read one. And her life shifted again, with her at the wheel, when she took the role of Alice in the animated short Who Am I Anyway?

She found her place in sound booths, with headphones, in the closet she soundproofed and set up as a studio in her apartment. And in time she converted the second bedroom in a new apartment as work rolled in.

She found her place, her own Who Am I Anyway? in voice-overs for commercials, animated films and shorts, in audiobooks, in video game characters.

She found her identity, her independence.

She found her joy again.

The turn, the direction, the self-knowledge, and the years between made her a different person when she ran into Noah again.

Walking home with a market bag after a long day in the booth, she heard her name, glanced up, focused in.

He’d let his hair grow a bit longer; he’d added some scruff. And he still had those wonderful lion’s eyes. She supposed any woman would feel a little heart-tug when face-to-face with her first love.

“Noah.” She stepped forward, kissed his cheeks as pedestrians flowed around them.

“I was just—Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s really good to see you. Are you busy? Can I buy you a drink? I’d really like . . . I’d really like to talk to you if you have a few minutes.”

“I could use a drink. There’s a place on the next block, if you don’t mind doubling back.”

“Great.”

He began to walk with her. A hot summer night, she thought, not so different from the last time they’d walked together.

“I guess you still live in the neighborhood.”

“Old habits,” she told him. “My grandparents are back in California, but I stayed. I go back and forth more than I used to. How about you?”

“I have an actual bedroom that can hold an actual bed. In fact, I’ve got a town house. It’s nice to have some room.”

“Here’s the place. Do you want a table? Want to sit at the bar?”

“Let’s get a table.”

The bar, several steps up from the coffee shops, pizza dens, Mexican joints they’d frequented once upon a time, offered steel tables, narrow booths, a long ebony bar.

Once they’d settled, she ordered a glass of cab, and he did the same.

“How’s your family?” she began, and he looked deep into her eyes. “The Irish can hold grudges, Noah, but there’s no need for it.”

“My parents are good. They’re in Hawaii for a couple of weeks—it’s cooler there, and my mom still has family on the Big Island. My grandmother passed last year.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We miss her. Bekka’s a doctor. We’re really proud.”

He ran through his siblings until the drinks came.

“I need to say some things. I’ve started to call you I don’t know how many times. I could never follow through. I didn’t do the right thing by you, Cate. I didn’t handle it right.”

“What happened was beyond awful. There’s no right way.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I said that then, but you were right, I didn’t mean it. I do now. It was never your fault.”

She looked into her wine. “It matters. Hearing you say that matters. We were both so young. God, the press afterward? Uglier yet, and we couldn’t have handled it. It would never have worked for us.”

She drank, studying him over the rim of her glass. “You were a key point in my life. I’ve been thinking about key points lately. How they all intersect or diverge. Being with you, then not. Key points. I’ve been to see every play you’ve been in since.”

He blinked at her. “You have?”

“Key points, Noah. It was good to see someone who mattered to me doing what he was born to do.”

“I wish you’d come backstage.”

She smiled at that, drank again. “Awkward.”

“I saw Lucy Lucille. Twice.”

She laughed. “Spending Mondays at animated films?”

“You were great. Seriously. I guess . . . it was good to hear someone who mattered to me doing what she was born to do.”

“You should hear my Shalla, Warrior Queen. You were never one for video games,” she remembered.

“Who’s got time? You look happy.”

“I am. I love the work, really love the work. It’s fun and challenging and, God, it’s diverse. I’ll say you look happy, too.”

“I am. I love the work. And I just got engaged.”

“Wow! Congratulations.” She could mean it, Cate realized. And wasn’t that a relief? “Tell me about her.”

He did; she listened.

“If you decide to come to another performance, let me know.”

“All right. And I’ll try to come to another. I’m actually starting the process of moving back to California.”

“Back to L.A.?”

“Big Sur. My grandparents are semiretired there. My grandfather had a fall, broke his leg last winter.”

“I heard about that, but that he was okay. Is he?”

“Mostly, yeah. But he’s getting older, whether or not he’ll admit it. And G-Lil’s waffling on doing a revival of Mame because she’s worried about leaving him even for a limited run.”