Her current job made her happy. She loved joking with teenagers and helping them work with their parents, she got a burst of joy every time she helped patients advocate for themselves in the maze that was their health care, she’d cried happy tears when parents who she’d helped counsel through their babies’ time in the NICU came back to show her their fat-cheeked, giggling, healthy babies. Yes, it was hard, almost every day. Yes, she needed to take more breaks from it, for her own mental health. But it also made her happy all the time.

Could she give up that happiness? For lots of meetings like this, less time for herself, and more money? What if that money could help her travel more, or get a better car so she could go on more road trips, or buy more books? Would she have the time to do any of those things? Would she take the time to do any of those things? Would the job be worth it?

That night, she called Maddie.

“Hey, Mom! I’m so tired of all of this rain.”

Vivian laughed.

“You and me both, girl. I keep daydreaming about sunshine.”

“How was work today? Are you the boss yet?”

She cleared her throat.

“That’s what I was calling to talk to you about. I become acting director next week, but . . . I’m not so sure I’m going to apply for the job.”

She heard Maddie’s big intake of breath, so she started talking again quickly.

“I’m not saying this because I don’t think I’d be great at the job; I know I would be. And it’s not because I have impostor syndrome or any of that other stuff. It’s because . . . I like my job now. I love my job now, actually. Do I want to give that up, just for more status, and more money, and to be an example for other people? Part of the reason I wanted to do this was to help young social workers of color see they could succeed, but can’t I do that just as well by mentoring the ones I work with? The job means more money, but it’s also a lot more time. Will the extra money make me happy?”

She hadn’t realized she felt this strongly until all of that came bursting out to Maddie.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a while.

“I’m so glad you’re thinking about all of this, Mom,” Maddie said. “I’ve been worried about you for a while, but you seemed so set on this job, it didn’t occur to me that that was why you were so stressed.”

Tears came to her eyes at the tone in Maddie’s voice.

“I feel guilty saying all of this—I feel guilty even thinking it,” Vivian said. “But I realized today I’ve dreaded starting this job ever since I first found out about it. But I felt like of course I had to take it, so I was going to. But now”—she shook her head—“I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Mom.” Maddie sounded so contrite. “I didn’t realize you felt like this about it. When you first told me about the job, it was right when we got to England, and I was so busy and distracted by work I didn’t ask you enough questions about it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Vivian sat down on the couch.

“No, don’t feel bad. I didn’t realize I felt like this about it, either. Someone said something that sort of . . . made me adjust my worldview. And I was thinking about the job today in a whole new way.”

She’d been thinking about everything in a whole new way since she’d gotten that postcard from Malcolm.

How had he listened to her—and heard her—so well? About wanting to see a tiara, about why she hated surprises, about the job—there he’d heard what she didn’t even say.

“Well”—Maddie had her businesslike voice on—“I’ve known plenty of people who have turned down well-paying jobs, or quit jobs in favor of ones where they made a fraction of that salary, and it was always because they wanted more balance in their life that the job with more money wouldn’t give them. And, if you’re having any issue with money, I can always pitch in. You know that, right? No matter what.”

Tears rolled down Vivian’s cheeks.

“Oh, girl, thank you, I know that,” she said. “But it’s not that; I’m doing just fine. More than fine, actually. But what if . . . I don’t know, there are so many what-ifs. What if I get sick like Aunt Jo? I have excellent insurance, but there’s so much insurance doesn’t cover, and I don’t want to be a burden on you. What if, I don’t know, my house burns down? Or . . .”

Maddie cut her off.

“Enough with the what-ifs, Mom. You have to live for today, for now, not what you might think could possibly happen, years down the road. This job . . . if you take it, you’ll probably stay in it until you retire, right?”

Vivian took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I probably would.” She thought about that. The rest of her working life, in that job. A job that wouldn’t make her happy. She’d known that, as soon as Malcolm had asked her the question.

“Don’t you always tell me that life is too short to do something you hate?”

Vivian laughed.

“Don’t throw my words back at me! And I won’t hate the job, it’s not that, it’s just . . .”

“I know,” Maddie said. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do. I know you know that. But I’m really glad you’re thinking about this. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, Mom.”