She was nervous at breakfast and didn't show it except in the coffee.She made it stronger than usual. I noticed and said nothing and drank it and watched her move through the kitchen with the contained energy of someone who had already run the conversation in her head seventeen times and was now waiting for the actual version to begin.The journalist was a woman named Claire Park, Theo's contact, mid-thirties, the kind of person whose calmness was clearly professional but didn't feel performed. She arrived at ten with a small recorder and no photographer, which Mara had requested and I had confirmed.I had offered to leave. Mara had said no.We sat in the living room, Claire across from us, and from the first five minutes I understood why Theo had recommended her. She didn't start with us. She started with the bakery."Tell me about the space," she said to Mara. "What it feels like to walk in."And Mara talked.I had heard her talk about the bakery before, practically, specifically,
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