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found a seat in the corner. Tamara wanted to sink deeply into the seat and become invisible.
    The waitress approached. “What can I get you?”
    â€œGive me the largest latte you have with a double shot of espresso,” Tamara said, placing her elbow on the table and resting her head on her tightly closed fist. She stared at the door while inhaling the rich aroma of brewing coffee, letting the distinctive flavor cleanse her emotions.
    â€œAre you all right?” the waitress asked.
    â€œI will be once I get my hands on my latte.”
    The waitress laid a couple of napkins on the table. “One supersized latte with an extra shot of caffeine coming right up.”
    The twenty-minute walk had helped reduce Tamara’s outrage and frustration with her mother. It was evident Madeline wasn’t going to stop pressuring Tamara into accepting a job at DMI. As recent as three months ago, Tamara would have jumped at a more senior role in the company. She’d craved the opportunity. Instead, she was given a junior marketing position. Tamara had performed the job to the best of her ability, but she had bigger plans than staying in a grunt-level role. Admittedly, working with Don had been quite pleasant, and she’d had an exciting couple of months. But she couldn’t ignore a key contributing factor. Madeline hadn’t been there. Her absence had been a requirement Tamara had demanded before agreeing to leave Europe and move back to Detroit. Madeline hadn’t liked the request but had agreed without incident. If she could honor Tamara’s request once, why not again? The more Tamara rehashed the spat with her mother, the more irritated Tamara grew. She let her head hang down in search of solace.
    â€œHere’s your latte.” A half-filled mug the size of three or four regular cups was set on the table with another napkin. “This should give you a jolt and should fix whatever’s bothering you, at least temporarily.”
    The waitress had offered her a kind word, and Tamara thanked her.
    If only a magical mug of brew could solve her problems, she’d get a gigantic vat of espresso to handle her boatload of Mitchell problems. Tamara sipped her latte and stirred the foam on top for a while. She was in a calm space until her cell phone buzzed. It was Zarah’s number. Tamara answered right away.
    â€œZarah, are you okay?”
    â€œNo, I’m not very good.”
    Tamara heard the agony oozing from Zarah and remembered the call she’d made to Joel yesterday. She’d gotten his cell number from Don, but what if Joel had blamed Zarah for the call? What if Zarah was mad at her for interfering? Blasting Joel had seemed appropriate in the heat of her anger, when her disdain was at the boiling point. Now that she was in a calmer state, her decision to interfere didn’t seem wise, especially if Zarah was hurt in any way. Tamara prepared to apologize.
    â€œWhat happened?”
    There was sobbing before Zarah responded, “Joel isn’t back.”
    â€œI know. You told me yesterday.”
    â€œI do not believe he is ready to come home.”
    â€œI guess not,” Tamara said.
    The sobbing continued, which drove Tamara crazy and her apologetic tone evaporated. There had to be zero tolerance for weakness if a woman was going to survive on her own. Zarah had to toughen up. Otherwise Joel was always going to have the upper hand. Being dominated was the pits. Tamara was too familiar with the feeling, having been overpowered by her eldest brother, Andre, then the nutcase of a boyfriend she’d fled from in Europe, and most recently Madeline. The reminders were overwhelming. There was no way Tamara could let her mother push her into a corner. No one could. She called the shots in her life, and that was final. Zarah had to grow the same emotional muscles if she wanted to last as a Mitchell and have a shot at independence.
    Apparently, Zarah wasn’t aware of