And off Bella goes.

Bella answers the door. "Hi, Trouble. Come on in."

"Mmm, pie." She steps aside to let in him and the pie. "Mom, Andi, Trouble's here!"

"That's such a peculiar nickname," remarks Renée, peering into the hall. "Hello, Trouble, I'm Bella and Andi's mom, Renée. Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Sure," says Trouble.

"Excellent. Would that pie be better warm, should I pop it in the oven?"

"Nah, you have to let it cool or you get pie soup," he says. "It's still pretty snuggly, actually."

"All right then." She puts a trivet on the counter and gestures at it. "It can cool there, then, I'm afraid between the air conditioning and the width of the windowsills there's no traditional pie-cooling to be had in this house. Sit down, sit down."

Andi is setting out spoons.

Bella is tipping ice from a tray into a water pitcher.

Trouble sets the pie down on the trivet and unfolds the towel off of it. The entire thing looks amazing. He finds somewhere to sit.

Eventually everyone has sat down and starts taking turns ladling themselves bean stew. (Salad has been predistributed.)

Okay. Trouble helps himself to some stew.

The stew is beany and spicy!

"Trouble, I don't know if the girls told you; in our house everyone waits for dessert till they've eaten their vegetables," Renée says mildly, taking a second helping of stew. "If you're allergic to something in the salad there are some baby carrots around."

Trouble shrugs.

The girls eat their salad.

(Andi drowns hers in ranch.)

Trouble does not go for his salad. Or for any baby carrots.

Eventually everyone has finished eating. Renée gets up and puts the leftover bean stew in a Tupperware. "We also have vinaigrette if you'd rather that than ranch," she tells Trouble.

"Nah," says Trouble.