Page 34 of It's in the Contract
“Yeah, she’s cool.”
It’s nice to hear Zeke’s voice. Mom is gone, probably training someone or teaching a class, and my house is quiet minus Butter’s snuffles. I can never imagine this kind of quiet happening at Zeke’s house.
“Things went well,” I say. “No one suspects that we’re faking it.”
“Yep,” Zeke says. “Anyway, want to plan what we’re going to see around Seattle? I don’t have much time here.” Zeke’s voice turns solemn. “Just until the end of the semester, remember?”
“I remember.” Butter and I head out the door, and my nose is hit by wet, misty smells of fresh rain. Our lawn is brilliant green, still lush, even though some of the trees in the neighborhood are starting to turn sunset orange and blushing red. I take a deep breath, feeling invigorated. Butter pulls on the leash and heads to her favorite spot to pee, right on the neighbor’s bush.
“I want to see everything,” Zeke says. “I want someplace to feel like home.”
I pause, keeping an eye on Butter while she finishes her business. “But won’t it make it that much harder to leave?” I’m not trying to push back, I’m just genuinely curious.
“Probably. But at least I’ll have felt like I really experienced it before we move somewhere new, and I have to start all over.”
“Sure. That makes sense. You want to make our plan in person?”
I don’t know what’s going through Zeke’s head, but this easy way of talking to each other, of chatting on the phone, feels suspiciously like friendship. But I won’t say anything. I won’t be the one who makes it hard for him to leave.
“All right,” Zeke says. “Let’s make our plan in person.”
I getout of the car and hurry up Zeke’s driveway, a light drizzle misting my hair. I press the doorbell, and the door is opened almost immediately. I open my mouth to say hi to Zeke, but then I look down. Mia is wearing a purple tutu and a headband with a pink, swirling unicorn horn rising off of the top, partially taming her wild curls.
“I don’t like eating fuzzy things,” she says with a solemn expression. “If you eat them then you throw up.”
“Umm . . .” I say. “Can I come in?”
Mia steps aside.
“Mia, there you are!” Caroline bustles around the corner. “What did I tell you about answering the door by yourself?” She scoops Mia up into a hug and plasters her little round face with kisses. Mia squeals.
Caroline turns her warm smile to me. Her belted coffee-colored cardigan hangs over a fitted white top and jeans. “Welcome, Callie. Zeke didn’t tell us you were coming over.”
“Is that okay?”
“Of course!” Caroline beams.
“I love your outfit, by the way,” I say. “You have to tell me where you got that cardigan.”
Caroline’s smile brightens even more. “You know, I’ve had this for so long I can’t even remember. I think I bought it when we lived in Georgia?”
I step inside and hang up my rain coat and take off my shoes. “Mia sure is . . . cute.”
Mia stares at me with huge brown eyes.
“Do I smell cookies?” I smell something, that’s for sure.
“Attempt number five. Do they smell good?” Caroline gives me a hopeful look.
“Yeah.” It’s partially true. I smell chocolate, but something is off.
“I tried a new recipe, double chocolate,” she says. “But it’s hard to tell when they’re done because of the cocoa powder. They’re so dark.” Caroline closes the door behind me and ushers me into the kitchen. Trays of cookies fill the counter space, the cookie colors ranging from charcoal black to dark brown.
Caroline sets Mia down, and the little girl rushes across the kitchen to open a drawer at her level. Mia pulls out squishy balls of play dough and takes them to the table, where she starts pounding and molding.
“Well,” I say. “You could take them off the trays now. To let them get cool underneath. Otherwise the bottoms will steam. But you don’t want to take them off right out of the oven; they’ll be too hot and squishy.” I examine one of the trays. “These ones look great. I think they’re your best.”
Caroline beams. “I had a feeling you would know what you were talking about.”
