“Hey, guys,” says Darcy. “It’s been a while.” She slides through her parents’ arms and gives us hugs, first Ruth, then me. I’ve always thought her voice was deeper and older than her looks suggest. She looks Ruth up and down and grins, revealing two slightly crooked incisors. “Cool hair,” she says. “I could never pull that off.” She sounds genuine, genuine enough that Ruth’s mouth twitches up into a smile.

“Thanks,” she says.

Ruth just ignored me last time I tried to compliment her hair. Two minutes with Darcy and she’s already got a rare Ruth smile. I should be used to that bubbling of unfairness deep in my rib cage, but it still fizzes like tides against a cliffside every time. Of course, I don’t say anything, though. I’m not going to make things worse.

“I had no idea this place was so nice,” Ellie says. “And it’s that cheap?”

Darcy nods. “Chelsea and I have our own laundry room and everything. And the basement has plenty of windows, so we get light. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“You sure the Garcias don’t mind the RV?” asks Ellie.

“No, no, not at all. They’re super nice. And we have our own back entrance, so we won’t be in their way at all.”

The group migrates toward the side of the house.

“So what are college classes like?” Ruth asks, sounding like she’s actually interested. “What are you studying again?” Like those moments with the meme, the tattoo, the plum, I’ve seen Ellie have some kind of magic that helps Ruth breathe just a tiny bit easier, and it’s clear Darcy has some of that magic too.

Please, oh please, I think, let it work wonders.

And let just some of it rub off on me.

CHAPTER NINE

At the restaurant we go to for dinner, Ruth orders seafood like she usually does, although she barely picks at the shrimp salad and crab cakes. I offer her some of my barbecue ribs, but she says no and goes back to nibbling. I wonder if Ellie or Eddie notices in the midst of excited conversation with their daughter.

The happy news is Darcy keeps us all laughing. The three of them are good at telling family stories, the memories from their past, in a way that includes those of us who weren’t there. Ellie tells us about a time when they all went to an art exhibit and spent over an hour looking for Darcy before they finally found her asleep under a bench in the Matisse room.

“We had called security and everything,” she says.

“What can I say?” says Darcy, shrugging. “I was tired. Also six.”