“Cool! Mom, can we go?” Emerson said.

Evette looked to Sergei, who seemed to consider the request for a moment, then dipped a single nod. “I guess so,” Evette said. “Assuming you get your chores done. But we’ll go after dinner so it’s not so hot.” She stood, grabbed her plate, then Emerson’s and headed for the kitchen. “How about you run up and get your shower done for the night. I think your daddy wants to talk to Aunt Cassie about some stuff.”

Aunt Cassie.

When had that happened?

And more importantly, why would Sergei want to talk to her?

Unlike most kids who might have balked and whined about not being privy to conversations, Emerson just bobbed his head, hopped off his chair and made his rounds with goodnights in the forms of hugs and high fives. The last thing she’d expected was for him to stop at her chair and give her a hug of her own. “If you’re not too tired after work,” he said, “maybe you and Uncle Kir can go with us. If they’ve got games, he can win you a stuffed animal. He got me two of them at the state fair in Shreveport last year.”

“We will see,” Kir said before Cassie could answer. “Cassie works on weekends, and if she covers the festival again tomorrow, she may be too tired.”

“I can rally,” she said to Emerson, surprising herself. “I haven’t really been to a festival just for fun since I was your age.”

“Why not? They’re a blast.”

Across the table, Aunt Frieda subtly cocked one eyebrow. A silent dare for her to finish what she’d started.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, but focused on Emerson. “My parents weren’t big on festivals. They thought it was a waste of money and didn’t care for the noise or the people. They were miserable, so I quit asking to go.”

Emerson shook his head like she’d just told him she didn’t believe in Santa Claus. “That’s crazy. Who’d pass up the chance for funnel cakes?”

“You will,” Evette cut in, “if you don’t go take your shower and get into bed.”

“Ugh,” he said to his mom with a good-natured frown. “Okay, I’m going. Night, everyone.”

A round of goodnights and wishes for sweet dreams followed in his wake, but more than a few gazes lingered on her, unspoken questions and open curiosity behind their eyes.

Evette wasn’t content to hold her questions, though. “You really haven’t been to a festival since you were his age?”

Cassie shrugged and tried to downplay what she’d shared, uncomfortable with the attention. “I’ve been to some since I moved here.”

“She means outside covering one for a station,” Frieda said. She shifted her attention to Evette. “I did manage to get her to Mardi Gras the first year. I thought her eyes were gonna bug out of her head the first time a guy begged her to flash her boobs.”

“That will not happen to her again,” Kir stated matter-of-factly then sipped his coffee.