Another silence fell over the room.
"Well," Gianna said with remarkable composure. "The cake was quite memorable."
"It was chocolate," Eric said, as if this explained everything.
"With raspberry filling," Gianna added.
"Right," Eric nodded seriously. "Good cake."
Vivian looked like she might faint from embarrassment.
"Eric, darling, why don't you go upstairs and... freshen up?" she suggested. "We're going to have lunch together."
"I need coffee first," Eric announced, shuffling toward the kitchen.
"Of course you do," Vivian muttered under her breath.
"I heard that," Eric called from the kitchen.
"I meant it lovingly!" Vivian called back.
"Sure you did," Eric replied.
From the kitchen came the sounds of Eric bumping into things and muttering.
"Is he always this... articulate in the mornings?" Kylie asked delicately.
"He's usually more... presentable," Vivian admitted.
"I think he's charming," Gianna said quietly. "Very... authentic."
"That's one word for it," Vivian sighed.
The coffee maker started gurgling loudly.
"At least he knows how to make coffee," Kylie offered optimistically.
"Small mercies," Vivian agreed.
"MOTHER!" Eric's voice boomed from the kitchen. "WHERE'S THE SUGAR?"
"Same place it's been for the past twenty years!" Vivian called back.
"WHICH IS WHERE?" Eric shouted.
"Cabinet above the coffee maker!" Vivian replied.
"THERE'S NO CABINET ABOVE THE COFFEE MAKER!" Eric protested.
Vivian excused herself and hurried to the kitchen. Her voice could be heard explaining basic kitchen geography.
"Your nephew seems very... independent," Gianna observed to Kylie.
"That's a diplomatic way to put it, sweetheart," Kylie replied.
"I mean it," Gianna insisted. "There's something refreshing about someone who isn't trying to impress anyone."
"Even when he should be?" Kylie asked.
"Especially then," Gianna answered.
Vivian returned, looking slightly stressed. "He found the sugar. Crisis averted."
"Where was it?" Kylie asked.
"Exactly where I said it was," Vivian replied. "Men just don't see things that are right in front of them."
"I can hear you!" Eric called from the kitchen.
"Good! Maybe you'll learn something!" Vivian called back.
"I'm learning that you talk about me when I'm not in the room!" Eric retorted.
"Only good things!" Vivian called back, then muttered, "Mostly."
"I heard that too!" Eric said.
"Your hearing is remarkably good for someone who can't find sugar," Vivian replied sweetly.
Eric appeared in the doorway holding a steaming mug. "My hearing is excellent. It's my caring that's selective."
"Eric!" Vivian scolded.
"What?" Eric asked. "You want me to care about everything equally? That's exhausting."
"You could try caring about being polite to our guests," Vivian suggested.
"I said hello," Eric pointed out.
"You said 'hi' and stared at Gianna like she had two heads," Vivian corrected.
"She doesn't have two heads," Eric observed. "I checked."
Despite herself, Gianna giggled.
"See?" Eric said, pointing at her. "She has a sense of humor. I like her already."
"Now you like her?" Vivian asked incredulously.
"I didn't not like her," Eric explained. "I just didn't remember her. There's a difference."
"A subtle one," Kylie observed.
"I'm a subtle guy," Eric said, taking a long sip of his coffee.
"You're wearing pajamas at eleven in the morning," Vivian pointed out.
"Good pajamas," Eric countered. "Silk. You bought them for me."
"I bought them for you to sleep in, not to receive guests in," Vivian clarified.
"They're receiving guests just fine," Eric argued. "Look." He gestured to his pajamas. "Still functioning."
Gianna was now openly smiling. "Are all your conversations like this?"
"You should hear us at dinner," Eric said. "We're even more entertaining when we're trying to be serious."
"Eric, go upstairs and change," Vivian ordered. "We're having lunch in an hour."
"What if I don't want lunch?" Eric asked.
"You'll want lunch when you smell Margaret's roast," Vivian predicted.
"She's making roast?" Eric perked up noticeably.
"With Yorkshire pudding," Vivian added.
"And gravy?" Eric pressed.
"Of course gravy," Vivian confirmed.
"Fine, I'll change," Eric conceded. Eric headed toward the stairs, then paused. "Gianna, do you like roast?"
"Very much," she replied.
"Good," Eric said. "Margaret makes the best roast in the city. Don't let Mother take credit for it."
"I hired Margaret!" Vivian protested.
"Hiring someone isn't the same as being talented yourself!" Eric called back.
"Eric Michael Collins, go upstairs this instant!" Vivian commanded.
"Going, going," Eric said. He started up the stairs, then called down, "Nice to meet you properly, Gianna. Sorry about the cake memory thing."
"No worries," Gianna replied. "It was excellent cake."
"Right? I told you," Eric said.
After Eric disappeared upstairs, the three women sat in silence for a moment.
"Well," Kylie said finally. "That was... illuminating."
"I'm so embarrassed," Vivian said, covering her face with her hands. "He's usually much more... refined."
"I thought he was wonderful," Gianna said softly.
"Wonderful?" Vivian peeked through her fingers.
"So genuine," Gianna explained. "Most people our age are so concerned with appearances and saying the right thing. He just is himself."
"That's certainly one way to look at it," Vivian said weakly.
"It's refreshing, Mother," Gianna insisted. "He's real."
"Real is one thing," Vivian replied. "Presentable is another."
"Maybe being presentable is overrated," Gianna suggested.
Kylie raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "That's an interesting perspective, sweetheart."
"I'm just saying, authenticity is rare these days," Gianna continued.
"So is proper morning attire," Vivian muttered.
From upstairs came the sound of Eric's shower starting.
"At least he's cleaning up," Kylie observed.
"Small victories," Vivian agreed.
"Do you think he'll actually come to lunch?" Gianna asked.
"Oh, he'll come," Vivian predicted. "Margaret's roast is his weakness."
"Everyone has their weakness," Kylie said philosophically.
"Eric's just happens to be beef," Vivian replied. "It could be worse."
"How could it be worse?" Kylie asked.
"He could be vegetarian," Vivian answered.
The three women looked at each other and burst into laughter.
"Now that," said Kylie, "would be a real family crisis."
---
Back at the training facility, Hailey was continuing to put the junior stunt women through their paces with an intensity that was unusual even for her demanding standards.
The women had moved on to more advanced exercises, including rope climbing and balance beam work.
The facility had multiple stations set up, allowing the women to rotate through different types of training.
The air in the facility had grown warmer as the morning progressed, and several of the women had tied their hair back and rolled up their sleeves.
Sweat glistened on their foreheads, and their breathing was becoming more labored with each passing minute.
"Are you alright?" Hailey shouted, her voice echoing off the walls.
The women were hanging from pull-up bars, their arms trembling with effort. Their faces were flushed with exertion, and some of them were clearly struggling to maintain their grip.
"Yes!" they replied in unison, their voices strained but determined.
"I said, are you alright?" Hailey repeated, her voice even louder and more demanding.
"Yes!" they shouted back, their responses showing both exhaustion and resolve.
Melanie, who was struggling more than the others, let out a small groan of frustration. Her arms were shaking, and she was clearly fighting to maintain her grip on the bar.
"We're training so hard," she complained, her voice breathless and strained. "When are we going to have time to find boyfriends?"
Clara, who was hanging next to her, managed a weak laugh despite her own exhaustion.
"If you get one, you'll be scolded like me all the time," she said. "Because you'll have no time for him."
Her statement carried the weight of personal experience, and there was a hint of bitterness in her voice.
Hailey stopped her pacing and looked at them with sharp eyes, her instructor's instincts immediately picking up on the personal revelation.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the sounds of the other women's labored breathing.
Clara quickly looked down, realizing she had said too much.
"Nothing," she said, but her voice lacked confidence and conviction.
Hailey walked over to where Clara and Melanie were hanging and sat down on the mat beneath them.
Her movement was casual, but there was something about her posture that suggested she wasn't going to let this go easily.
The other women continued their exercises, but Hailey could sense that they were all listening to the conversation with keen interest.
"Clara," she said, her voice softer but still carrying an unmistakable note of authority. "Do you have a boyfriend?"