“I...” Clint stammered. “I’m very interested. Yes.”
“It says in Scripture that it is not good for man to be alone,”Grandma said, though she herself had been single for most of her life.
“What’s preventing you from dating Nikki?” Mom asked.
“I’m not real convinced that ... she likes me.”
“She does!”all three Bradford sisters said in unison.
“Jinx!” they said in unison again.
How could Clint possibly doubt Nikki’s interest? The woman was as subtle as a bulldozer.
“Ask her out.” Corbin smiled his megawatt smile.
“Do you really think so?” Clint asked the table at large, earnestly curious. Britt had never met a man who required as much confirmation as Clint Fletcher.
“Yes, I very think so,” Valentina said with her heavy Russian accent.
“Yes,”the rest of them said.
“Though we really shouldn’t force dear, sweet Clint,” Nora pointed out.
“Aw, a little force wouldn’t hurt him.” Britt grasped her water goblet and thumped it in time to the syllables. “Clint and Nikki. Clint and Nikki.”
Almost everyone joined in with Britt’s chant, thumping their glasses. Two abstained. Nora regarded Clint with laughing apology. Grandma’s face, framed by the fur of Old Musty, had reverted to its default setting of disapproval.
“Clint and Nikki. Clint and Nikki.”
“Okay, okay.” Clint threw up his hands good-naturedly. “I’ll ask her out.”
A resounding cheer arose.
“Your grandmother was right,” Zander said to Britt later that night.
“If so, that would be the first time since 1971.”
“When she said earlier that you were shaken,” he continued. “She was right about that.”
Her body stiffened.
Everyone had stayed to help clean up after dinner, then left for their respective homes thirty minutes ago. The night sky had cleared. The light rain of earlier had whisked away, leaving behind a bright moon, stars, and an endless supply of clean, cool air. Thus, Britt and Zander had decided to move their party for two outside to the fire pit at the back of the house.
She’d dried off one of the Adirondack love seats while he’d gotten a fire going. Now they were sitting close, hands intertwined, feet propped on the lip of the fire pit, a blanket draped over them. It was private here, with a wall of brick at their back. Outdoor lanterns mounted to the exterior of the house flickered.
Britt had been feeling claustrophobic inside and had imagined that this was just what the doctor ordered. Space. Nature.
What she didn’t need? Zander pointing out that her grandmother had been right. That she was shaken.
Great Scott. He was well-meaning. They were all so well-meaning. But their well-meaningness was suffocating her.
“When I arrived you said we’d talk later,” Zander reminded her.
“I know.” She released a strained sigh. “But for now can we just rest and look at the stars? It would be nice if I didn’t have to fill the next few minutes with words.”
He remained silent, and so did Britt. However, the silence didn’t coast with peacefulness, the way she’d hoped it might. It snapped with tension.
“I’m off my game,” she finally admitted.
