“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I mutter.
“He needs an investor.”
I sigh. “Okay, yeah. He needs an investor. He’s been looking for one for years, apparently, with no luck.”
Randall grabs one of the Linzer tarts, eyeing it skeptically before popping it into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully before asking, “He made the kid’s arm?”
“Yeah. He makes affordable prosthetics for kids.”
Randall whistles. “Nifty technology.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s brilliant.”
As if on cue, Parker appears around the corner of the house, brushing excess grass shavings off his t-shirt. He climbs the steps to the porch, giving me a small wave. “Hey, Violet. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I wanted to surprise you guys,” I tell him. “All done?”
“Yup,” he says. “Everything’s cleaned up, too, Mr. Bishop.”
Randall gives a short nod. “Good job, kid.”
“Guess it’s time for cookies then!” I say, patting the seat next to me on the couch.
“Great, I’m starving,” mutters Parker, wasting no time diving for a brownie, which he stuffs into his mouth whole.
“So, how’s everything going?” I ask him. “Finish that computer? Learn any new skating tricks? Got a girlfriend yet?”
“Violet,” he manages around the mouthful of brownie. I snicker but drop the interrogation.
We hang out on the deck for a while, eating desserts and drinking sweet tea. The air cools as the sun dips lower, and I revel in the relaxing, evening breeze. When Randall heads inside to grab refills on the tea, Parker asks, completely out of the blue, “Do you and Landon hate each other now?”
I blink at him, completely caught off guard, and fumble for a lame explanation. “It’s complicated, Park.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s what Landon said.”
My heart stutters, and I stare at him. “You, uh, talked to him? About me?”
“Not really, but he’s been moodier than usual, so I asked him what was wrong.”
“Oh,” I mutter and watch him grab one of the Hawaiian bars. He eyes it, a bit unsure of the coconut, before taking a hesitant bite. The way his eyes widen warms my heart, and he finishes off the treat in seconds.
He swallows and says, “For what it’s worth, I think he misses you. Like, bad.”
“Oh,” I say again, mostly because I don’t know how else to respond.
Parker hunches forward a bit, hiding behind the hair falling into his face. “He’s a different person around you, you know. Nicer. He actuallysmiles.”
“Don’t tell me that, Parker,” I say softly.
“But it’s true!” he says adamantly.
Before I can respond, Theresa’s station wagon pulls up in front of the house. I wave at her, then I shove a few more cookies at Parker as Randall steps back out onto the porch. “Take these for your grandma.”
He nods and says gravely, “Think about what I said.”
I force a small smile even though his words give me a stomachache and hug him goodbye. “I will.”
Randall and I watch them drive off, Parker’s words ringing in my head.
