That settled it.
They carried the model through the rain together.
One blue-painted gate rubbed against Vivien’s sleeve.
Inside the gym, Juny noticed the mark.
Her eyes widened.
“Your coat.”
Vivien looked.
Blue streak.
“It has survived worse.”
Reed said:
“That coat probably costs more than my truck.”
“It does not.”
Juny whispered:
“It might.”
Vivien laughed.
Juny studied her.
“You don’t seem stuck up.”
Reed bent slightly.
“Juny.”
“What? That’s good.”
Vivien covered a smile.
“Thank you. I think.”
Juny won second place.
She claimed first place had been stolen by a volcano project involving unauthorized dry ice.
Reed told her accusations required evidence.
She said:
“Dad, it smoked.”
Spring arrived.
The Marlo renovated the West Lounge.
New wiring.
Updated service equipment.
Better counter layout.
Nora finally got the narrow storage wall she had requested for three years.
Her brother carved a small wooden sign for the entrance.
EVERY PERSON WHO WALKS IN HERE MATTERS.
No explanation.
No names.
No corporate slogan.
Reed saw it before opening day.
He stared for several seconds.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“This is suspiciously sincere.”
“Get over it.”
Juny came with him that Saturday.
She sat at a corner table drawing horses while Reed checked the final electrical work.
Henry sat beside her pencil case.
Vivien arrived around nine.
No assistant.
Jeans.
Navy sweater.
The same coat, still carrying a faint blue stain from the science fair because apparently the cleaners had not defeated tempera paint completely.
Nora hugged her.
Months earlier, Vivien would have frozen.
Now she hugged back.
Reed looked up from the panel.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Juny waved.
Vivien waved with solemn dignity, as though greeting a head of state.
A man at the counter recognized Reed from rumors circulating after Derek’s case.
He started:
“Are you the guy who—”
Nora caught his eye.
Tiny shake of the head.
The man stopped.
Nodded.
“Coffee’s good.”
Reed said:
“So I’m told.”
The man left.
Reed appreciated that more than praise.
When the work was finished, Nora brought coffee for the adults and hot chocolate for Juny with enough whipped cream to violate several building codes.
They sat beside the window.
Rainwater shone on the street outside.
Conversation moved easily.
Juny’s school.
Hartwell’s apprenticeship program.
Whether the Marlo should add peach pie in summer.
Nora’s belief that muffins had become unreasonably small.
No one mentioned Derek.