During those four days I kept thinking about the first time I had met Remy. I had been standing in the lobby of the gym waiting for Jade after a workout. He came out with her, laughing, and introduced himself with the enthusiasm of someone meeting a potential customer. He told me Jade was unusually driven and that people who carried that kind of ambition needed support rather than restrictions.
I remember agreeing, because what else was there to say? He did not know me, did not know the evenings I spent listening to Jade work through plans or the money I had helped provide when sponsors delayed payment. Yet he spoke with the confidence of someone who had already decided what support should look like.
A second memory came back while I was washing dishes. Jade had once shown me a message from Remy praising her commitment after a difficult week. She said it was the kind of encouragement she needed, and I was glad somebody had recognized her work. I had not remembered the exact wording until Dana's email made me think about it.
Something about trusting the timeline and choosing aligned people. At the time it sounded like the kind of motivational phrase that filled Jade's business accounts. Later I would learn that it belonged to a vocabulary Remy had been using long before he met her.
I did not tell Brenda or Tessa about Dana's email. I had already learned that trying to persuade Jade's family of my interpretation would only turn the situation into an argument about loyalty. I also did not tell Jade. Dana was entitled to decide when and how to deal with her marriage, and I was not going to use her private information as bait to provoke a response.
I brought a small notebook to our meeting because writing things down helped me remain focused. The receipts folder stayed on my phone. I had promised myself that any information exchanged would be used to understand my circumstances, not to create a spectacle.
The coffee shop was in a shopping plaza off a highway, the kind of place where people stop between errands rather than linger all afternoon. I arrived early, chose a table away from the door, and ordered plain coffee. The barista asked whether I wanted room for cream, and I said no. I watched people moving through the parking lot and wondered what I would do if Dana arrived angry, or frightened, or determined to recruit me into a confrontation. I was prepared to leave if the conversation became something I could not support. I had already lost enough peace to another person's decisions.
Dana arrived on time carrying a canvas shoulder bag and a thin folder. She was not dressed like somebody preparing for a dramatic public exposure. She wore a dark sweater, jeans, and practical shoes, with her hair pulled back from her face. She looked tired, but not disorganized.