Dad emerged carrying a screwdriver.
“Do not put that on the table,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were considering it.”
He left it on the counter and joined us.
We ate quietly for a minute.
Then Dad asked, “Did Savannah contact you?”
Mom looked at him.
“What? It is current.”
“She texted after she landed,” I said.
“And since?”
“A few messages.”
“Any pressure?”
“No.”
“Public statement?”
“Nothing about me.”
Dad nodded.
“That was correct.”
“I’m glad she meets the committee’s standards.”
“The committee remains cautious.”
Mom poured coffee.
“She wore the bracelet onstage.”
“You noticed?”
“The whole internet noticed.”
I stared into my cup.
“She likes the stage.”
“You sound surprised,” Mom said.
“I thought Savannah might be something Annie endured.”
“But she isn’t.”
“No.”
