“That’s amazing. I didn’t know that.” June took a bite of her pasta, giving Lila space. “I bet they’re very soft.”
“You can’t pet them,” Lila said with a frown. “They’re wild animals. They bite.”
To Melissa’s surprise, June found her bearings quickly. “Fair point. I’ll admire them from a distance.”
Lila regarded her curiously, before going back to eating.
June cocked her head to the side, gaze on Lila. “Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?”
Lila looked up, her eyebrows rising. “Three?”
“Three. Two pump blood to their gills, and one pumps it to the rest of their body. And when they swim, the main heart actually stops beating.”
“That’s weird.”
“Very weird. Also, their blood is blue.”
“Why?”
“Something about copper instead of iron. I don’t remember the exact science, but I could help you look it up sometime if you want.”
Lila considered this, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Maybe.”
It was the most engaged Melissa had seen her at dinner in months.
They finished the meal in something approaching companionable quiet, punctuated by the occasional animal fact from June—flamingos could only eat with their heads upside down, a group of porcupines was called a prickle, cats couldn’t taste sweetness. Lila absorbed each one with solemn attention, offering facts of her own in return. Melissa mostly listened, watching the careful negotiation happening across her table: June offering, Lila considering, a fragile bridge being built one strange piece of trivia at a time.
After dinner, Lila helped clear the plates without being asked—another habit she’d developed early, another way of being good, being helpful, being no trouble at all. June washed and Melissa dried, a division of labor that happened without discussion, and Lila sat at the island with a piece of paper and some colored pencils, drawing something she wouldn’t let either of them see.
“Bedtime in thirty minutes,” Melissa said when the last dish was put away.
“Can Miss Hollis read to me?”
The question caught Melissa off guard. Lila hadn’t asked for a bedtime story in over a year—had insisted, in fact, that she was too old for them, that she could read to herself just fine.
“That’s up to Miss Hollis,” Melissa said carefully. “She might have other things to do.”
“I don’t mind.” June dried her hands on a dish towel, her expression soft. “If it’s okay with you, Senator Brandt.”
“It’s fine.”
“What book would you like?” June asked Lila.
Lila slid off her stool, clutching her drawing to her chest. “The otter one. But only the chapter about sea otters. The river otter chapter is boring.”
“Sea otters it is.”
Melissa watched them go—Lila leading the way up the stairs, June following at a respectful distance. June’s sundress swayed as she climbed the stairs, the honey-gold of her hair catching the hallway light, and Melissa wondered if June could be the change this too-quiet house needed.
She retreated to her office, closed the door, and tried to focus on the stack of briefings waiting on her desk.
The call from David came at eleven-fifteen, long after June and Lila had gone to bed.
Melissa was still at her desk, laptop screen glowing in the darkness, when her phone buzzed with her aide’s name.
“It’s late, David.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I thought you’d want to hear this tonight rather than tomorrow.”
