He read the lines.
Colter Shaw, a man of percentages and careful assessments, not a man of the arts, nonetheless felt his pulse accelerate with every word. “It’s good. Very good.”
“Do you like it? Really?” It was clear his judgment was important.
He nodded.
“I’ve been working on it nonstop.”
“The meter, it’s good. The rhythm.”
Her eyes shone. “I tried to get that down. I didn’t want it to rhyme. That’s lame. You know, singsongy.”
“Like your selfies—unconventional.”
Beneath her modest smile, the girl was beaming.
A car pulled to the curb. The brakes squealed.
Instinctively Shaw reached for his hip.
A pointless gesture as he had no weapon to reach for.
Pointless too because the driver was Allison Parker. She climbed from her 4Runner and walked toward Shaw and Hannah, limping only a little. She winced slightly as she climbed the stairs to the porch.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s good. Some physical therapy for a few weeks.”
“How’s Mr. Villaine?” Hannah asked.
“He’ll be fine. They’re discharging him tomorrow. I was thinking he should stay here, with us, for a few days, until he recuperates.”
“Definitely,” Hannah said.
Parker then told her, “Your grandmother Ruth’s flying in to TRA in an hour. We’ll go pick her up.”
“And Noonie?”
Merritt’s mother, Shaw guessed.
“She’ll be here tonight. You’ll have to sleep on the couch.” A smile. “I saw that look.”
But the girl did not appear seriously put out. And her face brightened when Shaw said to Parker, “You know your daughter’s quite the poet.”
“Han’s a woman of many talents: photography, poetry.” She eyed the girl. “Anddifferential equations.”
“Mom...”
Parker nodded at the notebook in the girl’s hand. Hannah started to show it to her, but Parker said, “No, Han. You read it. Out loud.”
“Uhm, I don’t know.” Was the girl blushing?
“Please.”
After a moment. “I guess.” She bent to the notebook.
The Never Rule