Amara put Gerald on the chair beside her, which was apparently a signal of some significance, and picked up her fork. "Okay," she said simply. "Eat your mac and cheese before it gets cold." And just like that, the way only children can, the way that cuts through every layer of adult complexity and arrives at the only thing that actually matters. It was settled.
Daniel caught Victoria's eye across the table. She looked the way she'd looked in the rain, the way she'd looked in the Italian restaurant, the way she'd looked in that coffee shop at 7 in the morning, like a person instead of a CEO, like someone who had driven across the city, done her homework, and shown up. He thought, "This woman looked up anglerfish for my daughter." He thought, "I am in serious trouble." And for the first time in 6 years, he thought, "Good.
The Saturday dinner changed something. Not dramatically. Not in the way that movies want you to believe things change with music and slow motion and a moment so perfectly framed that everyone watching knows exactly what it means. It changed the way real things change, which is quietly and then all at once and then you look back 3 weeks later and realize you can no longer remember exactly what it felt like before. Victoria started texting Amara directly.
That was the first thing it started because Daniel had made the mistake or the not mistake depending on how you looked at it of mentioning that Amara had a school science fair coming up and was building a model of deep sea bioluminescence for her project which required materials that Daniel had been planning to pick up from the craft store on his next day off which was 4 days away. He mentioned it casually in a text on a Sunday morning. By Sunday afternoon, Victoria had texted him a link to an aquarium supply store in Lincoln Park that carried specialized LED components that would make Amara's project significantly more accurate and impressive along with the name of the person to ask for because she had apparently already called ahead. Daniel stared at the link. Then he showed it to Amara.
Amara stared at it. She called the store. Amara said. Apparently, Amara was quiet for a moment. Then she held out her hand.
Give me your phone, Amara. Dad, give me the phone. He gave her the phone. She typed something, handed it back, and went back to her homework. He looked at the screen.
Amara had texted Victoria. This is Amara. Thank you for the store. I'm going to need the blue LEDs and also the green ones. My dad doesn't know the difference, but you probably do.
Daniel looked at his daughter. She was already writing something in her notebook. Pen moving, not looking up. 3 minutes later, his phone buzzed with Victoria's response. Blue for deep bioluminescence.
Green for shuffle species. You're absolutely right. Tell your dad that the green ones are in aisle 3. Amara reading over his shoulder because she had appeared silently behind him. See, she knows.
From that point forward, there was a group text. Daniel had not agreed to a group text. It had simply materialized. The way Amara materialized things when she had decided they were happening. Victoria was a willing participant.