Vanessa looked at Darius. “I can imagine.” Nia pointed toward the pie.
“We brought dessert.” Vanessa accepted it carefully. “Did your father make this?”
“We both did.” Nia straightened. “I handled crust quality control.”
The kitchen showed evidence of actual cooking. Herbs remained on a cutting board, something simmered on the stove, and flour sat near a mixing bowl. Darius looked surprised.
“You cooked.” Vanessa folded her arms. “You sound shocked.”
“I have seen your refrigerator.” Vanessa pointed toward the stove. “Braised short ribs.”
“Rice.” She hesitated. “The rice may require executive intervention.”
“I’m checking the rice.” Darius moved toward the stove. Vanessa said, “You are a guest.”
“I fix systems.” He lifted the lid. “Rice is a system.”
Nia climbed onto her stool. “My dad fixes everything.” Darius looked toward her. “That is an irresponsible claim.”
Vanessa watched him adjust the burner. “Problem?” Darius shook his head. “Your stove runs hot.”
“I can have it recalibrated.” He laughed. “Most people just turn the knob lower.”
“Why accept an imperfect system?” Vanessa answered. Nia looked between them. “You two are weird.”
Dinner became the easiest adult evening Darius had experienced in years. Nia told stories about school, a boy named Cameron who had apparently violated several important social agreements, and her ongoing effort to teach classmates conflict resolution whether they wanted it or not. Vanessa listened with the same concentration she probably gave investment presentations. Nia noticed.
“You really listen.” Vanessa stopped eating. “Of course.”
“A lot of adults do fake listening.” Nia demonstrated an exaggerated polite face. “They make this face.”
Vanessa laughed. “That looks exhausting.” Nia nodded. “It is dishonest.”
Darius looked down at his plate. Camille would have adored this conversation. The thought hurt and comforted him simultaneously.
After dinner, Nia asked whether she could explore upstairs. Vanessa hesitated for only a second before saying yes. Darius watched her face carefully.
Several minutes later, Nia called from the hallway. “There’s a room with photographs.”
Vanessa became still. Darius asked quietly, “You okay?”
“No.” She breathed. “But I’m going upstairs.”
They found Nia inside Adrian’s room. The door was wide open. The reading chair now stood nearer the shelves.
The book had moved. Darius noticed immediately. So had several photographs, as though Vanessa had touched them recently instead of preserving them beneath invisible glass.