Page 153 of The New Place

He turns back at a rustle and finds Liesl with a picture frame in each hand, studying them. “I need a new one,” she says, showing him the one he keeps of her, her braid hanging down over her shoulder, braces on her teeth. She’s tucked under his arm in that photograph, while now she easily reaches his shoulder. “Or a cute one of me when I was little. Not this.”

“I like that one.”

“Ew, no. You didn’t even get a photographer for the wedding.”

“Pat took pictures.”

“And Cheryl.”

“Mrs. Coppola,” Abbot corrects.

“Cheryl,” Liesl says, drawing the word out slower and more clearly. “She said I could call her that.”

“She did?”

“What, you don’t believe me?” Liesl pouts at him. “You’re not very fun this morning.”

No, he’s probably not. Today is a bit much, actually. “I’m sorry,” he says. “What would you like to do today? I have a seminar in only a couple minutes, and then several meetings.”

“Wow, so exciting. But Chris said I can help get the book club meeting ready.”

“Please don’t encourage him.”

“Why don’t you have a picture of Mom?”

Abbot shuffles through his bag. “I do in fact need my desk at some point, when you’re finished going through my things.”

“You don’t here or at your house either.”

“I’ll just go to the breakroom to work, then.”

“Dad says it’s okay to talk about her.”

“So have a good morning.”

“He also said she’d want to be talked about,” Liesl goes on. “Also caramelköpfli and creme caramel are the same thing.”

“Stop.” It comes out too loud and far too sharp. He hears it the moment the word’s in the air, sees it in the jerk of Liesl’s chin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it’s too late.

“Fine.” She stands and then she’s gone, out the door.

“Liesl—” He catches her in the hallway, before she can get to the stairs at least, so their conversation won’t echo up and down all the floors of the building.

Not that he knows at all what to say. “I apologize,” he tries again.

“I’m going to see Chris.”

“Please,” Abbot says. “Just wait.”

“Chris remembers she exists. I’m going to his office. Bye.”

“No, I didn’t—I’m not—” Ned, he thinks, wanting his help.

See? Ned would probably say. You have to talk.

Abbot pictures gently ushering him aside. Liesl is just upset, like she was off and on the entire time he was in Geneva. She was delighted all weekend, laughing and cheerful at the wedding and yesterday too, and this morning is simply the other side of early adolescence.