"You came," he said. "You told me to," she said. He stepped back. She came in and from the kitchen without any preamble, any warning, any of the social warm-up that adults require before these moments. You're taller than I thought.
Victoria turned. Amara Brooks was standing in the kitchen doorway, purple cast raised slightly. Gerald under her other arm, wearing an apron she had clearly put on herself and tied imperfectly in the back. She was looking at Victoria with the frank, comprehensive assessment of a 9-year-old who has decided to form an honest opinion and is currently forming it. Victoria looked at her.
"You must be Amara," she said. "I know, Amara said. You can call me Amara, not Sunny. That's just for Dad." "Understood.
I made mac and cheese. I brought dessert." Victoria said, holding up the brown bag. "I hope that's okay." Amara looked at the bag.
"What kind?" Chocolate lava cake from the place on Clark Street. Amara appeared to conduct a rapid internal negotiation. That's acceptable, she said and turned back toward the kitchen. Victoria looked at Daniel.
He was already smiling. She likes you, he said quietly. How can you tell? She barely said 10 words. She said you could call her Amara.
He paused. The kid she doesn't like at school she refers to exclusively as Kayla's face. Victoria made a sound that was almost a laugh. "Come in," Daniel said. "Dinner's almost ready."
She came in. She sat at his kitchen table. She watched him finish plating the food, the breadcrumb topped Max and cheese that Amara had made herself with Daniel supervising, only stepping in twice. And she watched Amara explain the marine biology project she was working on with the focused intensity of a child who has recently decided her audience will find this as interesting as she does. And Victoria Hayes, CEO, sat at a kitchen table on North Paulina Street and listened to a 9-year-old talk about bioluminescent deep sea creatures with the complete and genuine attention of someone who was exactly where she wanted to.
At one point she asked a question, a specific informed question about anglerfish that made Amara stop and stare at her. "You know about anglerfish?" Amara said. 'A little,' Victoria said. "I looked some things up."
Amara looked at her dad. Then back at Victoria, "You looked things up," she said slowly. "Before you came, so you could talk to me." Victoria met her eyes. "Yes, the kitchen was quiet."