Page 49 of Recipe for Rivals
“Thank you.”
“No problem, little lady. Now let’s go find us a couch.”
Our search proved to be more difficult than I’d expected. Nova, Alice, and I walked up and down Manning Street, then turned onto the next road and walked that one. Most of the good couches had been sold already, and none of the kitchen tables were small enough to fit in Nova’s little dining area. There was a bed she lingered over, but then she told me pizza didn’t sound great and we walked on.
“I’m tired,” Alice whined softly. The last hour had loosened her up around me a little. I’d wondered if she was always this quiet, or if her shyness stopped once they reached the safety of their own space.
“We can call it a day,” Nova said, sounding just as done as her daughter.
“And give up? How about one more street, then we’ll try another neighborhood. Deal?”
It took a beat too long for Nova to agree, but she said, “Deal.”
I started walking past the next house because there was no furniture to be seen, when Alice tugged on her mom’s hand and pulled her toward a shallow table holding knickknacks. She picked up a pink jewelry box with a ballerina that popped up when she opened the lid.
“I think you need to wind it,” Nova said.
Alice turned it over and knew exactly what to do. “Lily has one just like this.”
A pained expression crossed Nova’s face. Her eyes cut to me. “Friend from New York,” she whispered, then turned back to Alice. “Can I see it?”
A small Post-it note on the side labeled it two dollars.
“Can I have it?” Alice asked, her little blue eyes pleading.
“Yes.” Nova dug around her purse when her eyes shot up to me. “Cash. Dusty, I didn’t bring any cash.”
I’d thought of this already, which was why I’d stopped at the ATM that morning and loaded up on twenties, just in case. “I have it, but you could ask if they take Venmo first?”
She looked relieved. “Good idea.”
Nova walked to the top of the driveway and spoke to the lady there. They both had phones out, so I imagined they’d found an app to pay with.
I crouched beside Alice. “Do you dance?”
“Not like this,” she said, watching the ballerina twirl. “My friend does.”
“So can I,” I said.
Alice looked up sharply, a delighted expression on her face. “You can’t dance like a ballerina.”
“Oh, I bet I can. It can’t be that hard.”
She giggled. Make that two tallies, now.
“Do you think they make these in my size?” I asked, flicking the frilly pink tutu on the porcelain dancer.
Alice giggled again, shaking her head. “No.”
“Hey, Dusty,” Nova called, “Should we get that, uh, pizza now?”
I looked past her to the woman she was chatting with, a puzzled expression falling over the homeowner’s face.
“It looks like your mama might have found herself a couch,” I whispered to Alice. “You coming?”
Alice nodded, closing the jewelry box lid.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, climbing the driveway to reach her side. There was a navy blue sofa tucked in the shade of thegarage that I hadn’t seen earlier. Soft lines on the cushions made it look like it might be fuzzy or fake velvet or something.