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“Was it Posie?” my dad asks. “Someone from college?”
“A new friend, actually. Through work.”
“That’s great, honey. You need friends in the city.”
“You sure do. Hey, don’t forget to give him nice, gentle food tonight and tomorrow, okay? His stomach has been through a lot. White rice, oatmeal, chicken.”
“I will, Mom.”
Ace returns to his chew toy, healthy and hale again. It’s the sweetest relief. Never again, I think.
“Have you spoken to that vocal coach again? The one you contacted for singing lessons?”
I shake my head, and my mother sighs. “You used to sing all the time, honey. You sang before you could talk!”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long,” she says.
“I’ll look into it,” I promise, not knowing if I will. Singing has been… difficult since Robin. During his time, too. The little comments about my pitch and my breathing. The smirk as he listened for something to comment on. He’d sucked all the fun out of it.
He’d done that with most things.
“That’s good. Your cousin Frida is getting married in a few months, you know. I’m sure she’d love it if you sang there.”
I groan. “Mom.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll lay off.”
My dad peeks over her shoulder. “How’s the new boss? The one Viv sold the company to?”
“He’s okay,” I say, shrugging. The picture of casualness. “He’s a venture capitalist. He wants us to make more money, and that’s pretty much it.”
“I’m not sure Viv is taking too kindly to that,” my dad says. His gaze locks on something over my shoulder. The towels, still rolled and pressed against my windowsills. “What’s behind you, sweetie?”
“Oh, the windows leak when it rains.”
“They do what?”
“It’s an old building.”
“That’s not an excuse. You need to tell your aunt. She’s your landlord,” my dad says. “Typical of my sister to not schedule inspections. How long has it been like that?”
“A few months, I think. Maybe more.”
“Have you mentioned it to her?”
“Yes,” I say, but I’m smiling. “You know how she is, though. Razor sharp but as distracted as they come.” Not to mention she’s been gone a lot, lately. Taking long lunches and three-day weekends.
“I’ll talk to her if you like,” my dad offers.
“Thanks, but I’ll bring it up again this coming week.”
“You do that, sweetie. Remember, you’re paying her rent, not getting to live there out of charity. So you demand what you need to. Vivienne will remedy it in a heartbeat if she actually listens to the problem.”
“Yes, Dad.”
He smiles. “That’s my girl.”
