Charlotte raised an eyebrow as I approached our booth.
I'd been gone maybe ten minutes—just long enough to find the manager's office, have a conversation, and apparently collect a stray along the way. She still didn't know what I'd been planning, what little miracles I'd been arranging for a tiny girl who believed in gods like other kids believed in cartoons.
All Charlotte knew was that I'd walked off with purpose…
…and now I was walking back with company.
Vanessa had finally settled back into the booth beside Charlotte, though settled was generous. She'd stopped hovering only because Rory had threatened to cry if Mama didn't sit down and stop acting like a malfunctioning Roomba.
Rory, meanwhile, was currently coloring on a napkin with a pen she'd somehow acquired—because of course she had—tongue poking out in concentration, completely unbothered by the adult chaos swirling above her head like storm clouds.
