“Yes.”
“Right. Well, even that.”
“Good to know.” He takes a swig of soft drink. “Is Ellenor still practising family law?”
“Yep. Working insane hours, as usual.” I hum wistfully. “We used to talk about travelling together. England was always on our list. Obviously, that didn’t happen.”
“You’re here,” Brandon points out.
“True. But it was meant to be something we did together.”
I consider taking a photo of the remaining chips littering the greasy paper, with the beach and the ocean in the background, but then I have a better idea. “Hey Brandon, would you mind if I call her and Mum?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not at all. But you do know it’s the middle of the night for them?”
“Yes, but they should still be up. Mum’s at work, though she won’t pick up unless she’s on her break. But Ellenor always takes my calls.”
“Really?” He checks his phone. “Even at…2 a.m.?”
“Yep. She’s a workaholic. She never sleeps.”
I fish out my phone and call our group chat. As predicted, Mum doesn’t answer.
Ellenor accepts the video call almost immediately. She appears on the screen, her sleek, ice-blonde hair falling into her face, features illuminatedblue by computer monitors. She’s surrounded by a wall of binders, her modern office barely visible. There’s at least one energy drink can in view.
“Hi, Elle,” I greet.
“Hi,” she says distractedly, the fierce click-clacking of her keyboard loud through the speaker. “I’m at work.”
“I can see that. I hope you don’t plan to push through until morning.”
“We’ll see. But the night is still young.” She takes a long sip of her energy drink.
I bite my lip. Much as I want to say something, there’s no use. She won’t stop until she’s completed whatever she’s working on. “Mum?”
“Saving lives at the hospital. But it’s your lucky day—I can spare five minutes for my little sister.”
“It’ll be worth it,” I tease.
“Doubt it.” But she finally tears her eyes from the laptop to look at her phone. She squints. “Wait. Are yououtside? In the sun? I thought it was meant to rain all week there.”
“I guess the forecast was wrong.”
“Clearly. I hope you’re making the most of it.”
“Yep.” I grin, switching the camera to show her the beach, the water sparkling beneath the early-evening sun.
She groans. “I’m so jealous.”
“Wait, there’s more. Guess what I’m eating.”
She gasps when I pan down. “No way. Fish and chips, Brit-style? Without me?Traitor!”
I laugh. “You’ll survive. And look—mushy peas.” I bring the camera close.
“Gross.”
Beside me, Brandon murmurs, “They’re better than they look.”
