That done, she had another perhaps more practical matter to address. She had money, but she didn’t want to use it to support herself. She kept a secret stash in case she wanted to disappear-which she knew she would at some point-but she needed a regular income. After all, she had her son, Tiny, to provide for. A job was essential. To that end, she’d been combing the classifieds day after day for weeks without luck. There were more jobs for machinists, house cleaners, and day laborers than there were for health care professionals, and she resented the implications. She’d worked hard to get where she was, and now it appeared that there was no demand for her services.

Two families were advertising for live-in child care. One specified experience with infants and toddlers, and the other made mention of a preschool-age child. In both instances, the ads said Mom was working outside the home. What kind of person opened her door to anyone who was bright enough to read? Women these days had no sense. They behaved as though mothering was beneath them, a trivial job that could be meted out to any stranger walking in off the street. Didn’t it occur to them that a pedophile could check the paper in the morning and have himself ensconced with his latest victim by the end of the day? All the attention paid to references and background checks was meaningless. These women were desperate and would snap up anyone who was polite and looked halfway presentable. If Solana were willing to settle for long hours and bad pay, she’d apply for those positions herself. As it was, she’d set her sights on something better.

She had Tiny to consider. The two of them had shared the same humble apartment for close to ten years. He was the object of much discussion among her siblings, who saw him as spoiled, irresponsible, and manipulative.