Darius had changed shirts three times. He did not mention that. Nia noticed anyway.
During the drive, questions began immediately. “How old is Vanessa?” Darius told her.
“Does she have kids?” He said no. “Pets?”
“No.” Nia looked horrified. “Nothing?”
“She runs a company.” Nia considered that. “That is not a pet.”
At minute fourteen, she became quiet. Darius recognized the silence. Nia was building a theory.
“Daddy.” He looked ahead. “Yes?”
“Do you like her?” Darius felt his grip shift slightly on the steering wheel. “She is a good person.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Nia looked out the window. “I’m eight, not confused.”
Darius smiled despite himself. “Yes.”
Nia nodded. “Good.” No follow-up came.
The gates opened before Darius reached the intercom. Vanessa had clearly been watching for them. She opened the front door before they climbed the last step.
She wore dark jeans, a cream sweater, and her hair loose. For the first time, Darius saw her face change before she remembered anyone might be watching. She looked directly at Nia.
“Hi.” Nia looked up. “I’m Nia.”
“I know.” Vanessa smiled. “Your dad has told me about you.”
“What did he say?” Vanessa glanced at Darius. “That you are extremely intelligent and impressively humble.”
Nia nodded. “Correct.” Vanessa laughed.
Darius silently counted another real one. Nia walked inside with complete confidence. After thirty seconds, she looked around the huge entryway.
“It is very quiet here.” Vanessa nodded. “It usually is.”
“Our house is never quiet.” Nia said this without judgment. “Daddy always has music or tools or something happening.”
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.”