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and a weasely insurance company. Instead, I’m re-assimilating after teaching in the farthest places the Community reaches, being gone for a year, and petitioning to re-enter. Simpler and mostly true.”
    The car idled as Frank waited on the exit ramp from 376 for an opening to turn right. “Is that allowed? Leaving and coming back, I mean. I would’ve thought once you kicked the habit, it stayed kicked.”
    â€œ Tsk. That expression is juvenile.”
    Two bicyclists crossed just as the light changed at the next intersection. “You’re talking like a nun again.”
    â€œDuh, Frank. I’m ten minutes away from being a nun again.” The words clogged her throat. “That is, from pretending to be a nun again. I need to talk and think and act like I used to. To answer your question, there’s an outside chance re-entering could be allowed because so many nuns are leaving. Few people want to challenge Fabian, so we should be safe playing it that way for several days.”
    He nodded, his eyebrows meeting. “I bow to your greater experience in matters of the arcane. And I’ll contact the Novice’s family tonight, get their story without Sister Fabian’s filters.”
    â€œSister Bridget. Did you forget already? All the Driscoll charm will be wasted if you don’t remember their daughter’s name. Not everyone wants to give their child to the Church.”
    â€œWe’re not working for the Church … oh, yeah.” He turned left.
    The neighborhood became more familiar to Giulia. They passed the high school where she did her first student teaching. Then the consignment shop, tattoo parlor, mom-and-pop grocery, bar. She rolled down the window and inhaled the espresso-flavored breeze from the Double Shot on the corner. “That’s wonderful.”
    That also means we’re only two blocks from the Motherhouse.
    â€œFrank, you should pull into a parking space on the next block. That way no one will see you driving me—especially not up to the door.”
    The Camry parked in the empty lot of a boarded-up travel agency next to a chain drugstore.
    â€œI expected the main convent to be in a better neighborhood.”
    â€œFranciscans are supposed to be about poverty. We—they—set up shop where they’re needed most.” She stared out her window at the Motherhouse’s weathered stone wall, visible beyond the prevalent red maples. “We used to sneak sandwiches to the schoolkids whose parents ran out of money between unemployment checks. Beatrice—the Community accountant—knew we did it but didn’t know how to tell us not to be charitable.” She smiled. “We always wondered if we’d cause her head to explode before she died of old age.”
    Two motorcycles idled at the stop sign, riders adjusting helmets, before they roared away. When the noise faded, Giulia said, “As soon as I get settled, I’ll ask Fabian who Sister Bridget’s friends were. If needed, I’ll co-opt some of the Driscoll charm to use on them.”
    â€œI wish I could watch you in action. Don’t get sucked back in there permanently.” He popped the trunk and came around to the passenger side with her suitcase. “I’m too busy to train a new partner.”
    â€œI can always count on you for an inspiring speech.” She took the black bag from him, and he leaned his face down to hers.
    For a moment she considered it. Then the wind flapped her veil between them.
    â€œNo. You can’t kiss a nun.”
    Dismay flicked across his face. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
    She touched his arm. “Don’t forget that this is a costume now. Underneath it I’m still a free woman.”
    He averted his eyes from her all-black ensemble. “Right. Text me when you know something.”
    I’m going to have to seriously deprogram him when this is over. She walked northeast across the