“Ice. Second.”
Mavis dashed out, and as she dashed back, Eve heard Bella’s cheerful jabbering.
The kid wore what Eve decided was a Mavis and Leonardo–style slicker. More pink, lots of shiny, and decorated with rainbows. She, too, wore boots, with multicolored bows in lieu of laces, along with a frilly skirt, and a dazzling smile.
She wiggled out of Mavis’s arms, chanting: “Das, Das, Das!”
Then launched herself at Eve with a height and velocity that made Eve think the kid might develop one hell of a standing jump shot.
She hauled Bella up because what choice did she have. Said, “Hey.”
“Das!” Bella threw back her head, laughed like a lunatic so her blond curls shook against the pink unicorn clips tucking it back from her ridiculously pretty face.
Bella caught Eve’s face in her hands, shook her head, then linked arms tight around Eve’s neck. Sighed. “Das, Das, Das.”
“We haven’t said anything—unless in sort of code about top secret because somebody could blab,” Mavis explained. “But I’m pretty sure she knows something happy’s coming, and you’re the reason.”
“I’m not. I just—”
Bella leaned back, kissed Eve’s cheek. Earnestly she babbled, patting her hands on Eve’s face, then brushing them into Eve’s hair. She pulled one of the unicorns out of her curly mop, and with a kind of ferocious concentration, shoved it into Eve’s choppy hair.
“Oh hey, I don’t—”
“Pretty!” Bella beamed sunshine smiles. “Das pretty.” And kissed Eve again.
“My Bellamina, that’s so sweet, and generous. She’s learning to share. It’s important to share.” Mavis spoke directly and very deliberately to Eve—with the pretty scary addition of a steely mom stare.
“Right.” And now, Eve thought, she had a freaking pink unicorn in her hair.
“And that’s not even the present. I guess that’s an extra. Bellisima? Do you want to give Dallas her present?”
“Das!” She wiggled down. “’Res’nt, Das. Bella do. Pretty!”
Mavis took a roll of thick paper tied with a ribbon out of her enormous bag, handed it to Bella.
Smiling, lashes fluttering, Bella held it up to Eve. “Bella do. Das.”
Eve sat, untied the ribbon, unrolled the paper.
Blobs of color, splotches of more, covered it along with finger swirls and prints, dots, and shaky lines.
She said, “Wow.”
“Bella loves to paint. Finger painting’s her specialty. When I told her we were coming to see you today, she wanted to make you a painting.”
“It’s great.” And rivaled, she thought, one of Jenkinson’s most eye-burning ties for impact.
Bella crawled up into Eve’s lap, wiggled her butt down. She took Eve’s hand so they pointed together.
“Das,” she said. “Ork. Somshit. Gah-ad.” She tapped, then moved up. “Das Ork how.”
“Sss,” Mavis prompted.
“How-sss. Like cas . . .” She looked at Mavis.
“Sil.”
“Cas-sil.”