"Sure," Trouble says agreeably.

Andi laughs again. "I bet you lie awake at night rehearsing conversations."

"Do you just really like making pie and give it away so you can reuse your pie plate again sooner?"

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"You caught me," says Ethan, eyes twinkling. "It's true. I admit it."

"That is an unusual, yet productive, hobby. What kinds of pie?"

"You don't look tired at all, what's your secret?"

"Insane amounts of tea," he deadpans.

"Every kind. What kind do you want? You allergic to anything?"

"Sooooo stereotypical," giggles Andi.

"No food allergies. Don't like raspberry seeds in my teeth, though. Is rhubarb in season yet?"

"No raspberries, check," he says. "Want rhubarb? There can be rhubarb."

"Strawberry rhubarb is possibly the highest form of pie," says Bella.

"My sincerest apologies," chuckles Andi. "However shall I make it up to you?"

Ethan raises his eyebrows.

"Strawberry rhubarb it is," says Trouble.

"I can tell you where my mom goes when she's in the mood for fancy imported tea," suggests Andi.

"Excellent. I think this is the first time I did a favor for my sister and was rewarded with pie. Though she did bake me brownies once."

"Ooh, brownies. Were they tasty?"

"That would certainly help."

"Sure. From scratch, even."

Andi names the intersection and the name of the tea shop.

"I'll remember that," says Ethan.

"Very nice," says Trouble. "What was the occasion?"