Andy looked like a kid bouncing in his chair. “What do you want, Andy?” Maryn slid across from him. Seeing that he’d ordered her usual root beer evoked twin emotions of irritation and nostalgia. She went with irritation. “I have a busy day.” “Thanks for meeting me.” His face was open, happy. Was he emotionally retarded? They were suing each other. “I took the liberty of ordering you a Cobb salad because I know you’re squeezing me in. You look great!” he said. She pointed to her temple. “Squint lines from busyness at work.” She pointed to her cheeks. “Deep grooves from clenching my jaw in anxiety.” She pointed to her eyes. “Shadows from lack of sleep due to stress.” He pointed to his face. “On TV every morning above a banner reading EVIL VILLAIN.” A reluctant smile escaped her. “I didn’t think you were a born politician, but you are relentlessly cheerful.” “It only took someone else telling me I’d dreamed of it my whole life to get me started.”
