She eventually shimmied free of me, swatting me with her hat. "How is the security thing coming along?"
"Mydepartment is keeping the marshmallow safe. No idea howtheyare doing." We reached the fence, but the gate was another twenty yards to the right, so I lifted her and unceremoniously plopped her on the other side.
She wobbled and caught herself on the fence post. "Technically, that's their job, too."
I levered myself over the rickety wood fence, planting my feet in front of her and cocking my head to bring our faces level. "I don't see them babysitting you while you talk to bees."
A smile shimmered on her lips. "It helps with honey production."
"Does it?" I challenged skeptically.
"Probably not." She swatted me again with her hat. "Stop teasing me."
"Never." We walked side-by-side back to the house, passing black-clad security employees who generally ignored us. When we reached the barn, I noticed that there were already cameras installed around the exterior, and Evie's doorknob had been replaced by a higher-tech version with a keypad.
Evie paused, staring at the door. "I think I'm locked out of my own house."
A woman wearing the same black polo as the others jogged over, waving. "Hi, sorry about that. We just installed it. Here is the current code and instructions for how to change it." She handed Evie a pamphlet, and I didn't miss how her attention caught on Evie's bruised nose for a moment. "I'll make sure you get in, but if you have any issues, just call that number on the back."
Evie flipped over the pamphlet, stared at the number, and then looked warily at the keypad. I rolled my eyes. "Thank you," I said to the employee. I plucked the pamphlet from thebewildered girl staring at her door like it was an alien, and with perfunctory jabs, I put in the new code. The door whirred open, and I shepherded her inside. "It works," I said with a wave to the employee. "Thanks."
"Awesome." The woman gave a thumbs up and then turned to finish her work that apparently required a ladder around the side of the house.
Evie looked faintly ill. "I feel weird about all of this."
"Why is it you look more disturbed by security measures than you did about getting slammed in the face by an elbow?" I asked with heavy derision.
"I don't know," she mused, probably more to herself than me. "I feel like my parents would have hated all this." She unlaced her brown leather boots and pulled them off near the door.
I followed her lead, toe-heeling my sneakers off. "What about you being safe would your parents have hated?"
"Not the safety part." Evie crossed the open living space toward the small kitchen in the back. "But all the technology and cameras. I think they would have seen it as wasteful and intrusive. They were environmental activists and lawyers—they died in a small plane crash while working."
A lot of loss, her Nan had said. She hadn't been mincing words with that. "How old were you when they died?" I asked, following her.
"Twelve." Evie said this so matter-of-factly, I couldn't tell if she was so traumatized that she'd buried her feelings or she'd just accepted it. She had her hair in a braid again today, and it swished over her shoulder as she opened the fridge and bent to look inside of it. "Nan came to live here after it happened."
I leaned against the counter, folding my arms and watching her as she took out feta cheese and a balsamic dressing. "That must have been difficult."
Evie seemed to consider that as she set her things on the butcher block counter. "It was devastating. Disorienting. But then again," she hesitated, her eyes landing on me uncertainly for a moment before hopping to the bowl of avocados in front of her.
"What?" I prompted.
"Well, my parents weren't home much." She took down a cutting board that she kept hanging on the wall and set an avocado on it. "I spent my days at school and evenings with friends. Mom and Dad were doing important work," she added hastily. "But when they died it was almost like… they left like they always did. And they were gone for a longer time than usual. And then when I felt like I might die from missing them, I guess I gave up waiting for them to come through the door. I accepted that they would always be at work. Somehow, that helped."
My heart ached for her, and I found myself uncomfortable with that fact.Achingfor others was a surefire way to end up vulnerable and hurt myself. "No child should have to endure that."
She gave me a weak smile before rummaging around in a dangerously disorganized drawer for a knife. "I almost feel like Tessa's situation is worse. Her parents are alive but not well. She's been with us since she was too young to remember anything else. But if her parents ever wake up from their issues, and they want her back…" Evie swallowed, exhaling. "I guess we're a strange family."
"All families are strange," I countered gently. "Yours is delightfully off-beat, I'll give you that."
That stole some of the sadness from her smile. "I'm glad you see it that way. Oh, I didn't ask. Do you like avocado?"
I hated it. "Sure."
"Okay, have a seat. I'll make lunch." Evie made a lunch with sourdough bread, avocado, feta cheese, and balsamic vinegar, and I was starting to wonder if this creature had something against steak and potatoes. While she made food, I sat on her couch, found the dusty remote between two cushions, and turned on the TV. She joined me, bringing our plates over and plopping herself next to me like we'd been friends for years.
She was completely unselfconscious, her eyes on the television as it played the news, unaware that her hip was touching mine and the fact that she smelled like sun-warmed alyssums. A soft beam of light caught the blond highlights in her messy braid, and she practically glowed for a moment, her light eyelashes flicking down and up as she divided her attention between the plate and the TV.
