Mom says to me, then focuses on Garth. “Lola, would you care to grab a bite to eat with us?”
Lola ? Mom’s on a first name basis with her now?
“Love to.” Garth makes for the hallway, device in hand. “I just have to conference HQ, and then I’ll meet up with you, say in thirty?”
My skin prickles in the worst way. Who does she have to talk to first? I really don’t like the way she comes and goes at random.
Mom notices my discomfort. “You okay? It’s over now. You can relax.”
“Doesn’t it creep you out that the DOT is staying in our house?” I ask.
“We’ve been through this,” Mom says like she’s looking at a poor little low-IQ child who can’t keep up. “We don’t have to treat them like the enemy. Better for us and for them if we can work together.”
I lower my voice, directing it more toward Dad. “How would Germaine Ricks know about the Manhattan time trip? How do we know Garth is who she says she is? That she’s Garth from now, and not Garth from some other time string?”
Dad scans the room. “That occurred to me as well.”
Again, Mom nods us toward the hallway. “I think it’s best if we sit down and talk with Lola before jumping to conclusions. We should keep this as tactful as possible, no accusations, understand?”
Dad looks like he might protest, then nods agreeably instead. “Your mother is right. Let’s stay on our toes, but give Agent Garth the benefit of the doubt. It’s possible there’s an ulterior motive behind her actions, but it’s also possible that the motive is a worthy one. Fact is we don’t know how the Timeline Rewrite affected the DOT’s relationship with us.” He frowns, looks me square in the eye. “It’s why I don’t like playing around with do-overs. Promise me you won’t pull a stunt like that again without consulting me first.”
I have to roll my eyes because I have promised him—when I first told him and Mom everything that happened. “I know, Dad. Just … don’t forget what I told you, or what we learned about what Garth’s father was trying to accomplish.”
“No, I couldn’t.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, guiding me down the hall. “We’ll evaluate everything. Now’s not the time for accusations, regardless of what happened in previous time strings. First and foremost, we have a business to run. Don’t forget that, Bee.”
I know he’s right, but patience has never been my virtue, and diplomacy is as foreign to me as chipper cheeks on camera. Better start practicing my poker face, or I’ll never get through this lunch.
“Your mother’s right,” Dad continues. “If we can make this situation work to our benefit, we could come out on top. Having the DOT on our side is not a bad thing, and Agent Garth may just be the liaison we’ve needed. Maybe she can even reduce those port taxes for your Induction trip.”
“You’re not thinking of telling her about that, are you?” I ask.
We enter the kitchen where Mom starts pulling food out of the fridge and setting it on the island’s stainless steel counter top. Dad finds a corner at the counter and straddles a bar stool, projecting his device’s holo-screen. He makes no mention of what he’s doing, but I snoop from my peripheral and can just barely make out a bit of data on the DOT.
Mom clangs bowls onto the counter and begins tossing lettuce. “I’ll make sandwiches, and Bianca, if you could grab some of Agnes’ chowder mix from the pantry, we’ll put the soup on so it’ll be ready when Lola gets back.”
I head down the opposite hall for the dry storage pantry. The way this house was built was modeled after the log cabins of olden days, giving the illusion of real logs stacked and mortared from the ground halfway up the wall, only with twenty-first century insulation. I slip into the pantry and breathe in the heavy spice aroma, grateful for a private moment to contact Tristan before Garth arrives.
I send him a brief message, then scan the
Lola ? Mom’s on a first name basis with her now?
“Love to.” Garth makes for the hallway, device in hand. “I just have to conference HQ, and then I’ll meet up with you, say in thirty?”
My skin prickles in the worst way. Who does she have to talk to first? I really don’t like the way she comes and goes at random.
Mom notices my discomfort. “You okay? It’s over now. You can relax.”
“Doesn’t it creep you out that the DOT is staying in our house?” I ask.
“We’ve been through this,” Mom says like she’s looking at a poor little low-IQ child who can’t keep up. “We don’t have to treat them like the enemy. Better for us and for them if we can work together.”
I lower my voice, directing it more toward Dad. “How would Germaine Ricks know about the Manhattan time trip? How do we know Garth is who she says she is? That she’s Garth from now, and not Garth from some other time string?”
Dad scans the room. “That occurred to me as well.”
Again, Mom nods us toward the hallway. “I think it’s best if we sit down and talk with Lola before jumping to conclusions. We should keep this as tactful as possible, no accusations, understand?”
Dad looks like he might protest, then nods agreeably instead. “Your mother is right. Let’s stay on our toes, but give Agent Garth the benefit of the doubt. It’s possible there’s an ulterior motive behind her actions, but it’s also possible that the motive is a worthy one. Fact is we don’t know how the Timeline Rewrite affected the DOT’s relationship with us.” He frowns, looks me square in the eye. “It’s why I don’t like playing around with do-overs. Promise me you won’t pull a stunt like that again without consulting me first.”
I have to roll my eyes because I have promised him—when I first told him and Mom everything that happened. “I know, Dad. Just … don’t forget what I told you, or what we learned about what Garth’s father was trying to accomplish.”
“No, I couldn’t.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, guiding me down the hall. “We’ll evaluate everything. Now’s not the time for accusations, regardless of what happened in previous time strings. First and foremost, we have a business to run. Don’t forget that, Bee.”
I know he’s right, but patience has never been my virtue, and diplomacy is as foreign to me as chipper cheeks on camera. Better start practicing my poker face, or I’ll never get through this lunch.
“Your mother’s right,” Dad continues. “If we can make this situation work to our benefit, we could come out on top. Having the DOT on our side is not a bad thing, and Agent Garth may just be the liaison we’ve needed. Maybe she can even reduce those port taxes for your Induction trip.”
“You’re not thinking of telling her about that, are you?” I ask.
We enter the kitchen where Mom starts pulling food out of the fridge and setting it on the island’s stainless steel counter top. Dad finds a corner at the counter and straddles a bar stool, projecting his device’s holo-screen. He makes no mention of what he’s doing, but I snoop from my peripheral and can just barely make out a bit of data on the DOT.
Mom clangs bowls onto the counter and begins tossing lettuce. “I’ll make sandwiches, and Bianca, if you could grab some of Agnes’ chowder mix from the pantry, we’ll put the soup on so it’ll be ready when Lola gets back.”
I head down the opposite hall for the dry storage pantry. The way this house was built was modeled after the log cabins of olden days, giving the illusion of real logs stacked and mortared from the ground halfway up the wall, only with twenty-first century insulation. I slip into the pantry and breathe in the heavy spice aroma, grateful for a private moment to contact Tristan before Garth arrives.
I send him a brief message, then scan the
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