“I wonder, could it hold a balcony?” She nearly stopped in transit. “Or why not an attic? That’d make a handy place for...”
Not pausing to analyze the disquieting image and explore the incomplete hypothesis, she proceeded to alert Averill. Then, back in the den, she pulled her dad to his feet and placed him by his wife on the couch. Shell drew up a hassock to sit before them with silent anticipation. Her eyes bounced steadily back and forth, cautious but eager.
“Well, I told you my coach Astrid came over, right? Two weeks ago?”
“Such a nice gesture,” Averill offered her usual compliment.
“‘Astrid’? Remind me please,” said Ben.
“Astrid, dad! Astrid. That computer’s addled your brain. My track coach? And mom: I wasn’t just being nice.”
“No?”
“Well, not just. And now there’s more to te
