The coverage played on a loop.
Aunt Estella had the television on in the sitting room with the volume low enough that the words blurred. The images did not need sound. Arianne at the lectern in a gray suit with two stacks of paper. Franz against the back wall, watching her like she was the only fixed point in the room.
Lily sat cross-legged on the rug three feet from the screen. She had watched the footage four times now. Each time she scooted a little closer.
"There," she said. "See?"
Aunt Estella set down her knitting. "See what?"
"She did not say yes and she did not say no. The lady asked if they were together, and she just talked about his work instead. So nobody can say she said it."
"And that is good?"
"Mm-hmm. Because if they get it wrong, it is their fault. Not hers."
