Ava's Prize. Cari Lynn Webb
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could be hugely popular.” Ava set her hands on her hips and stared them down. “But we’ll never know because you crushed it before I could debate its merits.”
“What merit is there in having hair that changes to green when you’re jealous? No one really wants green hair.” Dan nudged Ava in the shoulder, knocking her out of her standoff mode. “You really need to come to the table stronger in the next round.”
Kyle laughed.
Ava pointed at him. “You can’t side with them unless you’ve agreed to the rules.”
Rules? That hum shifted to a buzz. Kyle’s idea solidified into more than a throwaway thought. Their game could be a contest. First place. Last place. Rules to follow. Perhaps a contest for an original invention. An idea that would keep his parents retired in comfort, Penny’s Place open and his sister’s college tuition funded through her graduation. Then Kyle would finally bring his family back together like they’d been before his grandfather’s death. “You have rules?”
“Every good game has rules.” Ben looked at him as if Kyle shouldn’t ask such ridiculous questions. “It needs to be fair.”
Kyle nodded. His contest would be fair, too. But could it work? Could one simple contest keep him from financial ruin? “What are the rules?”
“Everyone gets a turn. You can tell your idea anytime. Any place, except church and anytime Dad tells you to be quiet. Otherwise you can’t interrupt.” Ben held up his fingers and counted. “This is the most important one—you can’t make fun of an idea.”
“Unless they’re mine,” Ava added.
“We couldn’t not comment on the hair dye, Ava.” Dan jabbed his elbow in Ava’s side. “Even my dad nixed that idea and he likes every single one you have.”
Ava shoved Dan back. “Your dad is a good man.”
“What does the winner get?” Kyle asked. A family game was all fine and good. But his contest needed a winner. In a viable contest, there needed to be a prize.
“Bragging rights.” Dan’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if nothing else mattered.
Again, that worked for a family game played in the car or a restaurant or at home. But Kyle needed more than bragging rights to entice entries.
The more that he needed was money. Money motivated people. There’d be no entry fee required. He’d offer a twenty-five-thousand-dollar grand prize for an original idea, provided the winner agreed to sign away their rights to the idea. If his team—the one he’d need to pull together—could develop the idea into a prototype, he’d give the winner an additional twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus. Then he’d submit the winning idea to Tech Realized, Inc. to meet his deadline and fulfill his contract. Everyone would win.
Kyle searched for a downside, but couldn’t see one and wanted to hug Ben.
A hug was hardly enough to thank the boy who’d possibly saved Kyle from bankruptcy. Instead, he touched his medical-alert bracelet. He didn’t know why Ben wore the bracelet, but he knew that bracelet made the boy different. Set him apart from his peers. Kyle remembered all too well having his mom bring special food to baseball practice and classmates’ birthday parties until he’d stopped RSVPing with a yes. He remembered all too well how it felt to be different, when all he’d wanted was to be the same. Different might help an adult, but it would hinder a child. “Ben, how would you like to tour my idea tank? Your dad and aunt could come, too, if they wanted.”
Ben tugged on his dad’s arm. “Can we?”
“We have to check our schedules,” Dan said. Before Ben could argue, Dan lifted his hand, palm out. “But I don’t see why not.”
Ben pumped his fists against his sides. “Can I take pictures?”
Kyle nodded. The kids at school would require proof of Ben’s claims about spending the day with a so-called celebrity. Kyle would ensure Ben had whatever he needed to be the envy of his classmates. “As many selfies as you want.”
“Cool.” Ben stepped to Ava’s side. “Aunty, you have to go, too.”
“I’m not sure,” Ava hedged.
“But you might come up with better ideas if you see how good ideas are made,” Ben countered.
Ava crossed her arms over her chest. “I already have good ideas.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Please come with us.”
Kyle held his breath, waiting for Ava’s response. Totally ridiculous since he didn’t care if she joined them or not.
Finally, Ava hugged the boy. “Fine. I’ll be there.”
Kyle released his breath. One quick tour. One more afternoon with Ava. That wouldn’t be too much of a distraction. Nothing Kyle couldn’t handle.
AVA BUSIED HERSELF with the sun-kissed-yellow teapot whistling on the stove and tried not to track her mother’s every step from the kitchen into the family room. Today was a good day. With every step Ava’s mother took, her auburn curls bounced rather than wilted against her forehead. She’d opted for her cane over her walker—another improvement.
Lately, her mom’s bad days seemed to outnumber the good days by almost two to one. Ava should be celebrating these moments with her mom. Not leaving her alone. “I’ll call Dan and cancel.”
Her mom settled both hands on the cane. Her voice lowered into parental override mode—the one that demanded, not requested. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“It’s no big deal.” Ava set the tea mug on the end table beside the couch, along with the bamboo tea chest, filled with her mom’s favorite tea blends. She avoided looking at her mom, worried her too-perceptive mother would notice the hint of disappointment in her gaze and call her out for lying now. “I wasn’t really interested in touring Kyle Quinn’s think tank anyway.”
“Ben expects you to be there.” Her mom lowered herself onto the couch and settled the cane within easy reach. “You can’t disappoint that precious boy.”
She also couldn’t leave her mom alone. That made Ava feel like a disappointment as a caretaker. Ben was young; he’d recover. Her mom’s good days weren’t guaranteed. Her stomach clenched around her love for her mom. How many stars had she wished on over the years to end her mom’s pain? How many prayers had she recited since middle school? She ignored that knot twisting through her chest and concentrated on gratitude. She was grateful for this day. “Ben will understand if I don’t make it.”
“Well, I’m ordering you to go.” Her mom dropped a ginger tea bag into the mug; her tone dropped into the criticism category. “You need to do something other than work and look after me.”
“I like my work.” Perhaps not as much as she wanted to, but her work fatigue was temporary. Sleep and a night off would improve her outlook. Ava tugged the teal throw from the back of the couch and tucked the fleece blanket around her mom’s lap. “Even more, I like to spend time with you.”
“I’m supposed to be doing the looking after.” Her mom touched Ava’s cheek. Regret stretched into the lines fanning from her mom’s pale blue eyes and slipped into her voice. “I’m the mother—it’s my job.”
“You did that while I was growing up.” Ava took her mom’s hand and held on, giving and absorbing her mother’s strength. Pleased she could be here for such an amazing woman. “Now it’s my turn.”
Her mother tugged her hand free and smashed the tea bag against the side of the mug as if that would squeeze the bitterness from her voice, too. “You should be making your own life and not have to...”
Ava stopped her. “Don’t