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“Thank you,” said Pembroke, unbuckling her seatbelt. “You really didn’t have to go so far out of your way.”
“No problem, dear,” said Archer’s mother as Pembroke opened the door.
“Pem,” started Brielle, “please answer my messages—”
Pembroke turned around, clutching her bag to her chest, and nodded back at Archer. “It was nice meeting you.”
Flustered, Archer looked to Brielle and back, the snub not going unnoticed. “You too… Thanks for your support. Uh, if you and Brielle need to talk about what happened—” But she’d already shut the door and walked away, heading down the driveway with her shoulders slouched.
The crinkle of the bag on Brielle’s lap was hard to miss as she watched Pembroke walk away.
Laying a hand behind the passenger seat headrest to look over her shoulder as she backed out, Mrs. Ward spared a glance at Brielle again. “I still haven’t heard about you.”
Archer gestured toward Brielle beside him. “She’s my house cleaner.”
The van screeched to a sudden halt a little too quickly at the end of the driveway. “From that… Scrubbing Angels service?”
“Scrubbing Cherubs,” corrected Brielle, cringing. She looked to Archer for confirmation on how to proceed, but he didn’t want her to have to explain more.
“We have a lot in common,” lied Archer, wondering if the only thing he knew they had in common was at least somewhat of an interest in comics and perhaps a little sexual tension. (The latter, of course, was mostly wishful thinking, but he didn’t think it impossible.)
Brielle drummed her fingers on her bag as his mother frowned and finished backing onto the road. “I really liked your book,” she said. “TheWheelsone.”
“Thanks.” In the moonlight, Archer caught a glimpse of Brielle’s smile and it was so dazzling, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“I thought your cleaning lady was an older woman,” said Mrs. Ward, completely ruining the mood.
“That was Deena,” said Brielle. “She requested a swap in clients.”
“Requested a swap…?” Mrs. Ward’s voice went high-pitched.
Brielle bit her lip. “She wanted a change in shift, I mean. I came back for the first time in a year after going to school, and I was free to take on her clients.”
“So you’re a student?” she asked.
“I was,” said Brielle. “I graduated with Pembroke.” She nodded at the sign for the local college as they passed, although Archer’s mother couldn’t see it. “Right there.”
“Congratulations,” said the older woman, but there was a false note to the sweetness. “Were you a biology major too?”
“History and philosophy, actually.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Ward. “And… do you plan to do anything with that or…?”
“Mother, can you please stop having an inquisition?” said Archer, certain he should step in if he wanted to prevent her from embarrassing him any further. As if that were possible.
“It’s okay,” said Brielle, but even in the dark of night, it was clear her smile was strained. “I’m currently looking for a career. I’ve worked at Scrubbing Cherubs every summer since I was sixteen, so I thought it could hold me over and help me save up for whenever I move.”
“You still… live at home?”
Archer didn’t know why she said it so disdainfully, considering she wanted him to still be home and he doubted he could afford to live on his own without his parents’ help.
“Yes,” said Brielle, nervously laughing. “But I did graduate only last weekend.”
“What kind of work are you looking for?” Mrs. Ward asked, taking them back onto the highway. “I’m not sure what a history or philosophy major might do, other than teach history and philosophy.”
“I thought about it,” said Brielle. “But I didn’t think I was suited for it.”
“Then why the major…?”
