âI was in the middle of something, but thatâs fine,â Marisol admitted overly polite (although what she was saying wasnât so much) with a swift hand gesture to emphasise her point. Insencere smile still in place, she took on the basket the womanâ Mrs. Caldwell-Moore brought over, sneeking a peak underneath the cloth that covered up the goods, not paying much mind to the small talk the other was trying to create. âIâm going to give these to Mr. Hughes and my son, Iâm sure they will enjoy them,â lie, âIâm currently trying out this new diet, so I canât have any, Iâm afraid,â truth, âbut thank you, thatâs very thoughtful. Soââ she said, the tone of her voice indicating she was ready to end this conversation right here, but the other seemed to have other plans. âMy husband is rarely home, he has his own business to run, so itâs usually just me and Lance. Heâs eighteen, so always out and about.â she said followed by a long pause until she realised, that maybe, she should ask about her son, too. âAnd Liam? How old is he? Maybe you can come over another time, no oneâs home except for me today.â
Avery listened intently to everything the other woman said. She had trained herself in reading between the lines but to only ever comment on as much as needed to be. âMy partner is also busy a lot. Makes it all the more important to fit in quality family time, donât you think? And Lance is your son? Thatâs a lovely name,â she complimented with polite sincerity in her voice. âLiam is the same age, actually. Grow up fast, barely see him around the house these days,â she continued, nodding for emphasis. âIf now is a bad time, Iâd be happy to bring him along next time. Being out of school now and in a new town, Iâm sure heâd appreciate a friend just down the street. Weâre 437, if youâd ever like to come around for a coffee. Tell me about the neighborhood. Iâm afraid Iâve only got soy milk, though.â