I took my suspicions to Mom, sharing them with her over a freshly baked chocolate cake I brought with me from a cute little bakery on Harvard Square. I could tell from the guarded look in her eyes and the tightness of her smile she was onto me and the gooey offering I set on the table in her small kitchen, but that didn't stop her from fetching a pair of forks from the silverware drawer after Charlotte shook her head at the offer of a third. I set out a single glass, filled it with ...