She pulled out a dining chair and sat down, kicking her feet up onto the edge of the table.

She was wearing a brand-new pair of bright white leather sneakers.

“Those look nice,” I said.

Ava twirled her right sneaker shoelace around her index finger while looking down at the fresh white leather.

“Dad got them for me,” Ava said.

Her voice had a sharp, clipped teenage dismissiveness.

“I didn’t know he took you shopping this weekend,” I said.

“He didn’t,” she said.