“That’s terrible.”
I shrug. “My parents were all about the stick and not the carrot. I can’t say my law firm is much different.”
“It makes sense if that’s how you grew up, that’s what you’d gravitate to. It became your comfort zone. It probably feels strange when somebody compliments you.”
“Or I wonder what they want from me.”
She cocks her head. “Is that what you thought about me? That I only said it because I have an ulterior motive?”
“No,” I say in a tone of finality. “Not you. Giving out compliments seems natural for you. I’m more like a dragon. I hoard them like rare treasure.”
“It costs nothing to be kind,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Then why do people find it so difficult?”
“Because they view it as a sacrifice instead of an offering.”
I frown. “Is that a line from a movie? Because if it isn’t, it should be.”
She breaks into an engaging smile. “See, Charlie? Seems like you’re capable of doling out compliments after all. Oh hey, don’t forget to bring something for swag swap later,” she calls after me, as I enter the cafeteria in search of Bernie’s famous chili with a side of cornbread.
I spin around. “What’s swag swap?”
“Everybody brings an item they’re willing to exchange for something else.”
“We trade our possessions?”
“You give something a new lease on life by giving it a new home.”
“Or you could toss it if you don’t want it anymore.”
She shrugs. “One person’s trash is a trash panda’s treasure.”
“That’s not how the saying goes.”
“Just bring a belonging you’re ready to part with, Charlie. Don’t overthink it.”
Chapter Ten
I overthink it.
I drag every one of my limited belongings into the middle of the cabin and debate the pros and cons of trading each and every one, including my laptop, which is ridiculous because it’s a firm-owned device loaded with confidential files, but that’s how seriously I decide to take swag swap.
In the end, I tuck Chucky under my arm and carry the doll to the lakeside picnic area where the activity is set to take place.
Cricket is already there, barking orders and looking both adorable and sexy in a white sundress. This is the first time I’ve seen her in anything without a licensed character or a logo. The white fabric accentuates her natural tan. She looks ethereal. A delicate angel. If I observe her long enough, I imagine she’ll sprout gossamer wings.
I know it’s an illusion. If there’s one thing I’ve already learned about Cricket, it’s that she is far from delicate.
The sun slips below the horizon, casting us all in shadow, but Cricket is prepared. She hoists a giant flashlight on the table and switches it on. Buffy immediately appears in the halo of light, wings spread, prompting a burst of laughter from Adam.
“Quick,” he says with false gravitas. “Call the Mayor of Gotham City. It’s the Bat Signal.”
“For the last time, Buffy isn’t a bat.” The sugar glider zips to Gloria to rest on her shoulder. “She doesn’t like bright lights.” Gloria coaxes the timid animal into her pocket and gives the exterior a gentle pat. I’m amazed how attuned she is to her companion. I’m not sure I have the capacity. Whatever her issues with her mother are, Gloria managed to pick up a few enviable traits.
“Who would like to go first?” Cricket asks.
Olivia raises her hand. “I will.” She produces a plushie of a character I don’t recognize and sets it in the center of the table.
