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“I’ve never seen you do that.”
Her eyes lift.
I stop beside the bench.
Her phone rings on top of the piano.
Tova.
The timing is so bad I laugh.
Astrid checks the screen, then me.
“You are sure?”
“She’s twelve.”
That gets a real laugh out of her.
She answers with video.
Tova’s forehead fills the screen.
“Mamma.”
“I can see your scalp.”
“I know.”
“Then fix it.”
The camera swings past a ceiling, a lamp, half of her grandmother’s kitchen, then lands on Tova.
“There.”
“Better.”
Her eyes move.
“Is Colt there?”
I lean into frame.
“Unfortunately.”
She grins.
“Did you move my hoodie?”
“No.”
Tova narrows her eyes. “Really?”
“Still on the chair,” I say.
“Good.”
Astrid gives me a look.
