Mrs. Edith set her cup down and turned toward the stove, the evening already gathering itself back into pots and timing.
Sacha pouted, playful, exaggerated.
"Do you think Mia still likes me? With her giving Stan her Stan all the hug outside…"
Mrs. Edith laughed softly, eyes warm. "She's always had a soft side for Stan…"
Sacha knew that. She had known it since cardboard houses and paper hundreds. She said it anyway, to put a little more air into a room that still remembered absences.
Mrs. Edith glanced toward the sofa. "Mia. Come help me finish this."
Mia's hands tightened on her sleeve. Before she could stand, Sacha was up.
"Why does Mia need to help you when I'm here? Let the girl rest for a while. I'll help you in the kitchen with whatever you need…"
Mrs. Edith shrugged, smiling. "Okay…"
They walked out together. At the kitchen threshold Sacha looked back and winked, quick, conspiratorial, meant for one person only.
Stan caught it and smiled to himself.
