"Do you like strawberries? They have the good ones today. Victoria looked at this seven-year-old who had just taken her completely apart in approximately 45 seconds and put her back together with a single sentence about strawberries. And for one unguarded moment, her eyes were bright in a way that had nothing to do with professionalisms or strategy or anything she'd built or learned. "I love strawberries," Victoria said.
"Good. " Amara reached out and took Victoria's hand with the casual certainty of a child who has decided something. Come on. Daddy always goes to the honey place first, but the strawberries are better, and if we wait too long, they're sold out. Victoria stood, her hand held by a seven-year-old and looked at Darius over Amara's head with an expression he had never seen on her face before, something open and undone and achingly human. He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if to say, "I told you. " She shook her head slightly as if to say, "You didn't tell me enough, and they followed Amara to the strawberries. " The next two hours were the strangest and most ordinary of the past month.
Amara led them through the market with the focused authority of someone executing a well-considered plan. Explaining to Victoria which vendors were good and which were mediocre and why. Asking questions with no filter and no agenda, filling every silence with the easy, undemanding presence of a child who has never had to perform for anyone. She asked Victoria what her job was. Victoria said she ran a company.
Amara asked what kind. Victoria said technology. Amara asked if she made iPads. Victoria laughed genuinely openly. The laugh of someone who has been caught entirely offguard and said not exactly but something like that.
Amara said that was still pretty cool. She asked Victoria if she had kids. Victoria said no. Amara asked if she wanted them. A small pause and then Victorious said she'd never had time to think about it seriously.
Amara said that was sad and then immediately moved on to asking whether Victoria preferred peaches or nectarines, which was the kind of conversational pivot that children execute without effort and adults can never quite replicate. Darius watched all of it. He bought honey and a loaf of sourdough and stood at the edge of the interaction and watched Victoria Hayes, who had negotiated with billiondoll investors and managed board crisis and built a company from 300 million to over a billion in valuation be completely undone by a second grader with strong opinions about Stone Fruit. At 12:30, Amara declared she was hungry and that she wanted the grilled cheese from the food truck because it was the best grilled cheese in the city. And she had told Jallen's mom this and Jallen's mom had agreed.
They got grilled cheese and found a table and Amara ate with the concentration of someone who takes food seriously. And for a few minutes, the three of them just existed in the ordinary warmth of a Saturday afternoon. Then Amara looked at Victoria and said, "Are you going to be around more? " Victoria looked at Darius. He kept his expression neutral because this was Amara's conversation and Amara would take it where she was going to take it regardless. I think so, Victoria said carefully.
Is that okay with you? Amara considered the question with genuine thoughtfulness, which meant she held Eldering instead of just saying the first thing. Daddy doesn't bring people around, she said. So when he does, it means they matter. She looked at Victoria.
Do you think he matters? Victoria was quiet for a beat. Then yes, I think he matters quite a lot. Amara nodded, satisfied. Okay, then.