“Photo storage. Raw files are huge.”
“Why not cloud storage?”
“I like physical backups.”
“That’s very analog of you.”
“I’m analog about a lot of things,” Tyler admitted, maneuvering the desk through the doorway.
“Like your CD collection?” Stella gestured to the shelf in the living room. “Who still has CDs?”
“They’re collectibles.”
“They’re ancient technology.”
“Says the girl wearing a Pearl Jam t-shirt from the ‘90s.”
“This is vintage,” Stella protested. “Totally different.”
Luke laughed. “She’s got you there.”
They worked with surprising efficiency, transforming the office into something resembling a bedroom. The futon, when properly arranged, looked almost like a real bed. Tyler’s desk lamp became a bedside light. They even cleared a shelf for Stella’s belongings.
“It’s not much,” Tyler said, surveying their work.
“It’s fine,” Stella said quietly. “Really. Thanks.”
“We’ll get you proper furniture. A real bed?—”
“It’s fine,” Stella repeated. She hesitated, then grabbed her duffel bag. “I’ll just... yeah.”
She disappeared into the room with her bag. After she closed the door, the three adults stood in the living room, catching their breath.
“That went better than expected,” Luke said.
“Did it?” Tyler asked. “My teenage daughter is sleeping on a futon in my former office.”
“She has a door,” Meg pointed out. “And privacy. That’s huge for a teenager.”
Tyler’s stomach growled audibly. “We need food. Real food. I don’t think I have anything she’d actually eat.”
“Make a list?” Meg suggested, already reaching for paper.
They congregated in the kitchen, Tyler opening cabinets with growing dismay.
“Okay, what do teenagers eat?” he asked.
“Cereal,” Meg said, writing it down. “The sugary kind.”
“She specifically requested the kind that turns milk colors,” Tyler remembered.
“Normal bread,” Luke added. “Her words about your seeded variety were... colorful.”
“What else?” Tyler called toward Stella’s door. “What do you want from the store?”
The door opened. “Are you asking me?”
“You live here. You should have food you like.”
