Truth, Lies, and Second Dates - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,56
you?”
“More like glommed on, Tom,” Abe said. He was slouched back in his chair, fingers curled around a beer, and looked as content with life as anyone she’d ever seen. Hannah was clearly feeling the day, too, yawning while she scribbled anagrams on the kids’ menu. “I was worried I’d have to set a fire or something, distract them so we could get some distance.”
“A fire,” Hannah said, switching out crayons, “would have been a bad plan. It could have become a blaze. A conflagration!”
“No one’s saying there’d be no downside to setting a fire, Hannah.”
“She’s far too young to be talking to recruiters,” Tom protested. “It’s inappropriate!”
“She also loathes it when grown-ups talk about her like she isn’t sitting right here and hearing every word while she colors.”
“Ava’s creeped out by people who refer to themselves in the third person. See? I know some smart stuff, too. Stop smirking,” she added, giving the girl a poke in the ribs, which elicited a giggle.
“Besides, it was a waste of time. I was—Ava!—happy to talk to them but—don’t poke!—I’m going to be a forensic pathologist, like Uncle Tom.” Ava relented while Hannah straightened her bangs. “And once I get my juris doctorate, I’ll do autopsies to catch killers, then prosecute them.”
“Then maybe invest in private prisons, so you can also keep an eye on the killers you exposed, prosecuted, and incarcerated?”
“I think you’re being sarcastic, but it’s not a terrible plan.”
“I was, Hannah. And it is.” Ava shrugged. “But what do I know? I only ever wanted to be one thing.”
Well. Mostly. Once upon a time, she and Danielle were going to travel the world buying eclectic nonsense for their online store, AvaDan (“AW-vuh-dawn”, because pretension and their teenage selves went hand in hand). The plan was to first run it out of Danielle’s basement and, once they were internationally famous and profitable—which they assumed would take no longer than thirty-six months—they’d move their headquarters to Paris, expanding to London and San Francisco as required.
It was a measure of how much she still missed her friend that, even now, the online-store idea didn’t sound completely ridiculous. Even if she had only kept to one part of their plan.
“You’re missing your friend.”
“All right, Hannah, how’d you do that?” She probably should have been annoyed, but dammit, the kid was impressive. Ava wasn’t too proud to learn new tricks. “I could have been thinking about anything. Pizza. Climate change. How I’m ordering the tiramisu just to gross out your uncle.” Also your uncle’s mouth, which is goddamned sinful.
“Incorrigible,” Tom commented, smiling.
“You were smiling and happy until you talked about only wanting to be one thing. Then you looked down and went very quiet, and you snuck peeks at Uncle Tom, who’s helping you catch the killer. So the only thing would be flying—were you going to fly together?”
“Something like that.”
“Hannah,” Tom began, but Ava reached out and touched his wrist.
“It’s fine. Yes, I was thinking of her. Yes, I still miss her.”
“That’s okay. I’m not laughing at you,” she said, sounding solemn for her years. “I miss my mother. I think about her sometimes. A lot, today. She would have thought the MAGE conference was hilarious. Right, Grandpa?”
“That’s just right, hon.”
“She would have teased my uncle because I’m more like him than I’m like her. And the oatmeal bottles.”
“I’m sure she would have—what?”
“When I was a baby, Mom would make the holes in the nipples of my bottles a little bigger and put oatmeal and pureed fruit in with my formula.”
“Helped her sleep all night,” Abe added.
“Peach was my favorite.”
“You remember being bottle-fed?”
“Yes. It wasn’t boring, though,” she added, as if she thought Ava was going to accuse her of being a lazy baby who contributed nothing to society while she sucked down bottles stuffed with oatmeal. “If I tried it now, I’d be tremendously bored. But back then, I didn’t mind just being there. That’s what I remember best. Just being there. And the taste.”
“Remarkable. You’re remarkable. That’s—wow.” Ava shook her head. Outclassed, outgunned, outsmarted by a kid younger than my favorite bra. “My first memory is getting my hands on a tube of cookie dough, gobbling it down in front of the fridge, then throwing up, also in front of the fridge.”
“Eeee-yuck!” Hannah giggled. “But I didn’t say it was my first memory. Just that I remember my bottle phase.”