Seeing her with Olive as summer waned I wondered if Adonie had any children. I had never thought of that before, never wondered or speculated. Never, in fact, thought of Adonie as separate from her job. She was an architect and at present my boss. I went no further. Nor, I realized now, had I looked beneath the surface or thought much of her at all. I had been very careful not to.

 

But seeing her with Olive, packing the little dark varmint around the house piggyback during the day, bending over her to explain something Olive had brought in from outside, answering questions Olive asked her in a voice too quiet for me to overhear, I did wonder if she had children. The way I guessed her age, she might even be a grandmother. She could have parents, sisters and brothers, a large family. A devoted family.
No one ever called her or interrupted her here, but, then, we were pretty far out and she could have asked them not to interrupt her at work.
I didn't know if she had friends. She had colleagues, because once I had said to her that they would steal her ideas and jump her on jobs. "Yes," she said, "some of them try to. And some of them share." But were they friends? And did she have friends who were not colleagues?

 

 

 

 

I didn't know.

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(Cella) The trees deepened in their green.