“Nia will ask approximately forty personal questions.” Vanessa said, “I can survive boards.”
“You have never faced third-grade direct examination.” Vanessa laughed again.
“Still.” Darius smiled. “I think she would like you.”
Saturday, Vanessa texted two days later. She invited Darius and Nia to dinner. Darius spent half the afternoon deciding what to bring before calling his mother.
“Sweet potato pie.” His mother answered before he finished asking. “And flowers.”
“She owns catering companies.” His mother snorted. “That does not mean you show up empty-handed.”
“Mama.” Her voice sharpened. “Darius Anthony Coleman, I raised you better.”
He made his grandmother’s pie. Nia supervised from the counter and asked why cinnamon behaved differently from nutmeg, why pie crust needed cold butter, and whether professional chefs were allowed to use frozen crust. Darius answered until he ran out of patience.
At four-thirty, Nia appeared wearing her burgundy church dress. Darius looked at her. “You look beautiful.”
“I know.” She pointed toward the pie. “Did we pack it?”
Darius had changed shirts three times. He did not mention that. Nia noticed anyway.
During the drive, questions began immediately. “How old is Vanessa?” Darius told her.
“Does she have kids?” He said no. “Pets?”
“No.” Nia looked horrified. “Nothing?”
“She runs a company.” Nia considered that. “That is not a pet.”
At minute fourteen, she became quiet. Darius recognized the silence. Nia was building a theory.
“Daddy.” He looked ahead. “Yes?”
“Do you like her?” Darius felt his grip shift slightly on the steering wheel. “She is a good person.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Nia looked out the window. “I’m eight, not confused.”
Darius smiled despite himself. “Yes.”
Nia nodded. “Good.” No follow-up came.
The gates opened before Darius reached the intercom. Vanessa had clearly been watching for them. She opened the front door before they climbed the last step.
She wore dark jeans, a cream sweater, and her hair loose. For the first time, Darius saw her face change before she remembered anyone might be watching. She looked directly at Nia.
“Hi.” Nia looked up. “I’m Nia.”
“I know.” Vanessa smiled. “Your dad has told me about you.”
“What did he say?” Vanessa glanced at Darius. “That you are extremely intelligent and impressively humble.”
Nia nodded. “Correct.” Vanessa laughed.
Darius silently counted another real one. Nia walked inside with complete confidence. After thirty seconds, she looked around the huge entryway.
“It is very quiet here.” Vanessa nodded. “It usually is.”
“Our house is never quiet.” Nia said this without judgment. “Daddy always has music or tools or something happening.”
Vanessa looked at Darius. “I can imagine.” Nia pointed toward the pie.
“We brought dessert.” Vanessa accepted it carefully. “Did your father make this?”
“We both did.” Nia straightened. “I handled crust quality control.”
The kitchen showed evidence of actual cooking. Herbs remained on a cutting board, something simmered on the stove, and flour sat near a mixing bowl. Darius looked surprised.
“You cooked.” Vanessa folded her arms. “You sound shocked.”
“I have seen your refrigerator.” Vanessa pointed toward the stove. “Braised short ribs.”
“Rice.” She hesitated. “The rice may require executive intervention.”
“I’m checking the rice.” Darius moved toward the stove. Vanessa said, “You are a guest.”
“I fix systems.” He lifted the lid. “Rice is a system.”
Nia climbed onto her stool. “My dad fixes everything.” Darius looked toward her. “That is an irresponsible claim.”
Vanessa watched him adjust the burner. “Problem?” Darius shook his head. “Your stove runs hot.”
“I can have it recalibrated.” He laughed. “Most people just turn the knob lower.”
“Why accept an imperfect system?” Vanessa answered. Nia looked between them. “You two are weird.”
Dinner became the easiest adult evening Darius had experienced in years. Nia told stories about school, a boy named Cameron who had apparently violated several important social agreements, and her ongoing effort to teach classmates conflict resolution whether they wanted it or not. Vanessa listened with the same concentration she probably gave investment presentations. Nia noticed.
“You really listen.” Vanessa stopped eating. “Of course.”
“A lot of adults do fake listening.” Nia demonstrated an exaggerated polite face. “They make this face.”
Vanessa laughed. “That looks exhausting.” Nia nodded. “It is dishonest.”
Darius looked down at his plate. Camille would have adored this conversation. The thought hurt and comforted him simultaneously.
After dinner, Nia asked whether she could explore upstairs. Vanessa hesitated for only a second before saying yes. Darius watched her face carefully.
Several minutes later, Nia called from the hallway. “There’s a room with photographs.”
Vanessa became still. Darius asked quietly, “You okay?”
“No.” She breathed. “But I’m going upstairs.”
They found Nia inside Adrian’s room. The door was wide open. The reading chair now stood nearer the shelves.
The book had moved. Darius noticed immediately. So had several photographs, as though Vanessa had touched them recently instead of preserving them beneath invisible glass.
Nia stood before the beach photograph. “Is this your husband?” Vanessa nodded. “Yes.”
“He looks happy.” Vanessa’s face softened. “He was.”
Nia looked toward her. “My mama died too.” Vanessa’s eyes immediately filled.
“I know.” Nia continued. “I don’t remember her much because I was little.”
“But Daddy tells me stories.” Nia looked around the room. “Do you tell stories about him?”
Vanessa opened her mouth. No words came. Then she said, “I’m starting to.”
Nia nodded. She crossed the room and hugged Vanessa around the waist without warning. Vanessa froze.
Darius watched her arms lift slowly. She placed them around Nia’s shoulders. For a moment, Vanessa looked like somebody had opened a window inside her chest after years without air.
Nia stepped back. “The pictures are good.” Vanessa wiped one eye quickly. “Thank you.”
“You should look at them.” Nia walked out. Her emotional assignment was apparently complete.
Darius looked toward Vanessa. She gave a shaky laugh. “Eight years old?”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Vanessa nodded. “Completely.”
Darius rested one hand against the doorframe near her shoulder. He did not touch her. “You did good.”
Vanessa looked at the open door. “I did not lock it this time.” Darius smiled. “That is something.”
They returned downstairs. Nia immediately asked for pie. Vanessa gave her half of her own slice after Nia finished hers.
“Are you eating that?” Nia asked. Darius said, “Nia.”
“I’m only asking.” Vanessa slid the plate across. “Please take it.”
Nia accepted it without shame. Darius laughed. Vanessa watched the two of them with an expression Darius could not ignore.
At eight-thirty, Nia fell asleep on the couch. Darius carried her to the Expedition and returned for the pie dish. Vanessa walked him to the front door.
The night was warm. Buckhead’s expensive silence no longer seemed empty. It simply seemed temporarily asleep.
“She is extraordinary.” Vanessa looked toward the car where Nia slept. Darius nodded. “She knows.”
Vanessa smiled. Then her expression became serious. “I want more evenings like this.”
Darius looked at her. Vanessa continued before courage changed its mind.
“I do not know exactly what this is.” She touched one hand against the doorframe. “But I have spent six years wanting nothing personally.”
“I want more dinners.” Her voice softened. “More Nia.”
Then she looked directly at him. “More you.”
Darius held her gaze. “I can do that.” Vanessa released a breath.