Local Star Aimee Ogden (the lemonade war series txt) đ
- Author: Aimee Ogden
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âI still donât think heâll be doing much to tamp down on tonightâs activities. Nothing like having your prodigal daughter return in star-studded glory to convince a man that maybe sheâs done all right for herself after all.â
At that, Casne only grunted. Triz knew Quelian had been upset when Casne ran off to join the Fleet. But she couldnât imagine how he could hang on to that old anger now, with all Casne had done. She let the subject slide and ducked her head into Casneâs shoulder to avoid the spray from a freshly popped bottle of fizzy-slosh. At Casneâs squawk of dismay, she cackled a laugh. In answer, Casne picked Triz up around the waist and wiped her wet, sticky face off on Trizâs already-mussed worksuit, ignoring Trizâs squalls of protest. Together they staggered, shrieking with laughter, into the minilift doors as they opened. Triz stepped on someoneâs footânot Casneâs.
Triz turned and looked up into Quelianâs dubious face.
âBaba!â Casne said to her father, reaching uncharacteristic heights of joviality before Triz could croak an apology. âWe were just talking about you.â
âI got all the Swarmers inventoried,â Triz cut in, crushing a footâCasneâsâon purpose this time. âStarted drainage on the worst one and started two batches of algae cultures incubating, so theyâll be ready for you first thing in the morning.â
âReady for me?â Quelianâs frown didnât deepen, exactly, only shifted somehow. He was much fairer than Casne, whose looks took more after her mother, but there was a certain . . . stubbornness these two shared. When Casne and Triz were teens, heâd taken on a role as one of the habitation ringâs tribunes, expecting to transition away from the wrenchworks entirely once Casne came of age to take over. Then sheâd gone and run off to be a Fleetie. Overworked and overtired as he was these days, he didnât seem quite as eager, somehow, to hand off the âworks to his daughterâs guttergirl-partner. âI assume youâll be in somewhat later than first thing yourself?â
âBaba.â Casneâs perfectly cheerful tone sheathed steel. âHas Triz ever slacked off a day in her life?â She pursed her lips. âWhere are Daddy and Damu and Mama?â
âI queued up to handle the tab while the others took your mother home.â Now a touch of humor tugged at his mouth. âShe drank enough brandy tonight to drop a Tolvian martyr.â
A flicker of guilt over missing time with Casneâs family made Trizâs shoulderblades jump. They got to see Triz plenty, more than they wanted, probably; better to let them have their one-on-one time with Cas.
âIn fact, itâs probably just as well you excused yourself when you did,â Quelian went on. âAll three of them send their regards, Triz. Veling said to remind you that youâre invited to dinner tomorrow night.â
These âfamilyâ dinners hadnât stopped, as Triz had half-expected, when the quadfamilyâs only daughter had gone off to war. Having grown up a guttergirl in another Habâs recycling engines, Triz found any meal she didnât have to fight for to be a gift; she was embarrassed and pleased to still be included when she was outside of Casneâs shadow.
They wanted her to be a part of their extended family, so why was Triz so hesitant?
Quelian looked between Triz and Casne once more and sighed, looking not a little martyr-ish himself. âEnjoy yourselves, then. Iâm sure you will.â He shouldered his way out into the Arcade crowds as others finally nudged Triz and Casne forward and into the minilift.
âGods,â said Casne, and sighed. âI donât know why Iâm surprised. You know how he is.â
Triz did know. After Casne had first invited Triz to join her and her wife Nantha in their marriage, Triz had tried calling Quelian âbabaâ too. Once. The look heâd given her couldâve slagged plastiglass. âDidnât your parents want to see you tonight?â she asked, now that Quelianâs dour mood had kindled a trashfire of guilt in her belly.
âTrying to get rid of me already?â Casneâs elbow dug into Trizâs ribs as the minilift spat them out on the second level of the Arcade, where most of the eateries and, more importantly, drinkeries were located. âThey were waiting for me as soon as I offloaded. We had dinner while you were slumming it in the wrenchworks. Which, by the way . . . why were you doing that exactly? Mama told me she couldnât dislodge you out of there with a crowbar and a bottle of brandy. Wasnât the same without all six of us together. We even had Nantha on the âport.â
A flush crept up Trizâs neck, and she let a little space come between her body and Casneâs. It was always nice when Casne talked about her like she was really one of them, and still awkward too, because she wasnât. âI wish Nan couldâve been here too. To celebrate all together.â
âNan said the same thing.â Casne arched an eyebrow. âBut I bet if Fleet Admiralty tried to unplug her from her calculation matrices right now, sheâd claw her way right back into them. With those three inbound deployments, the navigators are up to their necks in math about now and she lives for that stuff.â
âSays the Tactics number-jockey.â They both laughed, and Triz ducked her head in embarrassment. âAnyway, your parents deserved to have you to themselves.â
âWell, youâre basically part of the family. More than basically, if you ever get around to formalizing it, which by the way, Nantha and I are still waiting for you to say yes to.â A snort. âBesides, if youâd been there, maybe Mama wouldnât have done so much damage to the brandy on her own. Oh!â Casne let her hand slide down Trizâs arm until they only clasped fingers so they could slide one after the other through a flock of Fleet engineers and their
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