He tasted it. “Not bad. Though must be a real pain in the ass to make.”

“Why?”

“Just think, milking those tiny cashew udders.”

Delia paused, then broke out in laughter.

“And my work here is done,” Eric said, a smile brightening the green flecks in his eyes. “Unless you want to tell me what that was about. Can’t grow up with a grandmother who talks as fast as a coyote steals a backyard poodle and not be a good listener.”

“That’s not true.”

“’Fraid so. Both.”

“Remind me not to move to Denver and buy a poodle.”

“Okay, but only on the second part of that sentence.”

And that’s all it took. Delia talked. Told Eric everything, about her parents, about her clearly foolhardy plan to win ValleyStart, get a job, and ease her parents’ money worries. About her fears of getting that job, of living here, so far from home, but also of her desire to live here, so close to what she’d always been good at. Or was before she got here.

“No wonder you’re screaming,” he said. “I’m barely holding it in just listening to you. You’re putting so much damn pressure on yourself. Comparing yourself to everyone else here.”

“Because they have so much more, better schools and computers and programs they learned on.”

“I didn’t. And I’m here. Same as you. You know how much of an accomplishment it is to just be here, don’t you?”

She nodded. “But I-I want more.”

“Good. So do I.”

“But I’m afraid to want more. Because what if . . .”

What if I let everyone down?

“What if you don’t get it? You try harder.” He trailed his hand through his hair, and pieces of it flopped over his eye. He tossed them back.

“Which women in tech have to do, right? Especially women of color, like Emma. Is that why she left?”

He paused before shaking his head. “I think her heart wasn’t in it. Music’s her thing. She only came here because her dad wanted her to. Which is cool. I get it.”

“Your parents wanted you to come?”

“Not exactly.” He bent over, resting his elbows on his knees. “My mom died when I was in fifth grade.”

Delia reached for a curl. “I didn’t know.”

He looked back at her, smiling weakly. “It’s okay, really.”

“I’m sorry, Eric.”