“I noticed.”
“She liked hats.”
“She did?”
“Dad says she had too many.”
From behind us, Harlan said, “She had a room for them.”
Belle whispered loudly, “He hated the hats.”
“I could hear that.”
“I know.”
I smiled.
There was nothing remarkable about the moment.
And that was what made it remarkable.
The feared Harlan Voss being teased by his six-year-old daughter.
Mara carrying juice boxes.
Children singing off-key on the Meridian stage.
Maybe power was not the most interesting thing about people after all.
Maybe what they did when no one was impressed mattered more.
My eviction problem did not disappear.
On Monday morning, I woke to another notice taped to my door.
I sat on the floor and stared at it.
Five days.
Tasha found me there.
“Oh, Rue.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sitting on the floor.”
“The floor is free.”
She sat beside me.
We remained there for a while.
