“I was going to say we try Doctor Who. I know Mom will like it.” Her eyes dropped to her plate, aimed directly at the small piece of remaining garlic bread. “You might, too, Dad.”
“I was going to say we try Doctor Who. I know Mom will like it.” Her eyes dropped to her plate, aimed directly at the small piece of remaining garlic bread. “You might, too, Dad.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get—”
Heather’s voice came with a quiet persuasion, eyes staying solely on their daughter despite speaking to him. “Maybe we should try Miranda’s suggestion.”
Miranda continued looking down. Even Bamford, who’d been snoring away in her dog bed, seemed to go quiet. Heather’s phone began vibrating violently on the table, an insistent buzz that caused the flatware to dance against the dishes. “It’s the firm,” she said, looking at the small screen. “I gotta take this. But Doctor Who sounds good. I keep hearing about it.” Heather’s voice gradually disappeared as she made her way to the home office upstairs, her tone shifting into an efficient professionalism that seemed at odds with the woman who was just debating Star Trek as a means of family bonding.
“Dad, this show. It’s about...” Miranda’s warbled voice trailed off and Kin noticed her taking short, quick breaths. “It’s about time travel.”
