“No. I was just going to take a picture of it to send to Emma. We were talking about it. She showed me a painting in one of the art books, and it looked so much like the one we have. Had. I thought she would think it was neat.”

Her mother smiled and went back to typing. “I should come over one of these days with you and Ada. It’s been so crazy around here, but I do want to meet her in person. I look like Mother of the Year leaving it at just the one hello text. Plus, it would be fun to see how you guys work, to see how she teaches you.”

“You’d like her. She’s awesome. Ada still won’t draw anything, but you can’t tell her she’s not an art expert now.”

“That’s fun. Ada can be an art expert if she likes. Just look at me. I’m great at eating, a total foodie, but barely any kind of cook at all. Are you guys meeting up with her this afternoon?”

Carly stifled a sigh. She knew they couldn’t meet up every day. “She said she can’t today. She’s busy. Maybe tomorrow, though.”

Her mother looked up again. It took nothing these days to see her expression fall into a version of that same look she’d had on her face when she came running into Mrs. Carmichael’s house. After the thing. Her mother was still worried, and every time she got that look, it rattled Carly into a reminder of all there was to worry about in the world.

“Ah. Okay. I’m sorry about today. I know it’s disappointing. This kind of sad feeling is the downside of great stuff. And I’m so glad you’ve found something new and positive. It’s good timing for that, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It helps me—a lot—to see you happy, to see you getting out there, doing what you do. That’s the way it should be. I like you bouncing around.”

Carly stuck her tongue out and bounced on her toes, rolling her eyes.

Her mother smirked and shook her head. Carly hoped she had a smirk like that.

“And Emma sounds very nice. It’s great that you have an outlet for your drawing, and some artistic advice, too. I’m not a lot of help to you in that. You’re so talented, honey.”

“Mo-oom.”