Iris didn’t give the awkwardness another moment to linger. She stood and pulled Kennedy into her arms, not knowing—or seeming to care—that her daughter didn’t readily return the embrace. Deven could count, maybe on one hand, how often the two had spoken since Kennedy had come back into their lives. It was a shame that time hadn’t healed all wounds.

“Hey, my baby girl,” Iris said as she pulled back and placed her hands on either side of Kennedy’s face.

Her smile was plastic when she spoke. “Hi Mommy.”

“Hi Mama,” Deven greeted pulling Iris’s attention long enough for a hug of her own.

“Oh, both my girls have come to visit. Debra, do you see this?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she ushered them both into nearby chairs. “Kennedy why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I thought I would surprise you.”

“A surprise indeed.” Iris clasped Kennedy’s hand in hers and held it to her breast. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good.”

“And your father?”

A pause. Deven had to frown at the odd question. Iris knew Keith had passed years ago. But even if she didn’t remember that, why did she care?

Kennedy cleared her throat. She looked to Deven who gave a subtle shake of her head. It was a good day. They didn’t want to ruin that. “Everything is good,” she answered, evading the question.

“Good, good. That’s good to hear.”

“How long have you been here, Ms. Debra?” Kennedy asked.

Debra looked around at the room’s commotion. Someone had put on the Electric Slide and now the staff were leading the residents in the line dance. “Just a week,” she said. “I was glad to move in and see a familiar face. Iris and I have had a lot of fun times when she stayed over in the Villas.”

She was speaking of the estate homes Deven had grown up in, Cambridge Villas. Luxury at its finest, thanks to her dad’s long money. Deven had hated having to get rid of the home, and the memories in that house. It’d felt like part of her childhood had been sold to the highest bidder. Of course, some memories weren’t as fond as others, but they were hers just the same.

“Kenny, baby,” Debra went on. “I remember your mom used to come over every Thursday and pick up a fruit roll-up from my candy dish.” She tossed her a wink. “You remember how much you liked those?”

Now Deven was sure Debra was out of it. It was Deven that craved the gummy candy. Kennedy was the chocolate fanatic. But rather than remind her, she figured they could just placate her for now.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Kennedy answered, apparently with the same idea.