“I... we kissed. Twelve times, on that first day.” He hesitates, perhaps gauging Grandpa’s reaction. “Fifteen? Twenty. We kissed twenty times.” His phony reminiscing goes a bit dreamy when he adds, “It waswonderful.”
“I see.” Grandpa is clearly entertained. “What makes you think you’re ready to get married?”
I strain to pick up every syllable. Whatever Hall’s about to say feels so significant that my balance is affected—I shift my weight from one foot to the other, a hot prickle on the nape of my neck,similar to the eerie sensation of being watched from afar. His answer doesn’t matter. None of this does. I should flounce right in, interrupting them.
I’m a statue.
“When it’s right, it’s right, you know?” Hall’s stock response is for the best, and I have no business being let down by it. We’re not really engaged. So he doesn’t really like me that way, even though I’ve felt myself growing to feel... differently, about him. I can’t help it. He’s so sweet, I really had no choice in the matter. “She and I are different, but...” He considers the question more carefully. “She’s a type of fun that I admire but that wouldn’t be natural if I tried to emulate it. And I’m a type of fun that I think is good for her to be around, but that she isn’t vulnerable enough to emulate herself. It’s an unusual match, maybe, but the influence we’ve been on each other is... pleasing.”
An inner light clicks on.Oh.
“Anyway.” Hall clears his throat. “Hear anything lately about the Wall Street? Or the Broncos? Let’s talk about mallard ducks.”
“Let’s talk about the sequins I found glued to the mallard ducks in my study,” Grandpa readily agrees.
“I bedazzled them. You’re welcome.”
“Do you think you and Bettie’ll want kids?”
My forehead thuds against the door, which is thankfully masked by Hall’s loud cough. He regains his composure after a few seconds, sputtering out: “Mallards are omnivores. Their outer feathers are waterproof. They are the most common wild duck in the Northern Hemisphere. Egg incubation takes twenty-seven to twenty-eight days.”
Grandpa laughs. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll leave you alone now.”
“Gastropods are a staple of their diet.”
“Good night, Hall.”
My grandfather walks out of the kitchen, closes the door, and without even glancing at me where I’ve flattened myself to the wall off to the side, says in a low, amused voice, “Night, Bettie.”
I straighten myself out, grand and dignified. “Lawrence.”
His eyes gleam. “What an interesting couple you two make.”
“I agree. We’re the trendiest item ever.”
“Mm-hmm. And are you going to keep him around after the holidays are over?”
My eyes narrow. “I don’t understand your meaning.”
He chuckles once, makes a gesture that is somewhere between wave and salute, and strolls off toward his study.
“You forgot my tip!” I call. Grandpa’s deep laugh booms from the staircase.
As soon as he’s gone, I immediately burst into the kitchen, startling Hall, who drops a rolling pin to the floor.
“It’s just me,” I say breezily. “What are we up to in here?”
Hall lays a hand over his heart, the color slowly returning to his stricken face.
“Nothing whatsoever.”
I consider teasing him about mallard trivia but am delightfully distracted by his newBBQ MASTERapron. Flour and pumpkin pie ingredients cover every surface of the kitchen. “Here.” I dig into my pocket. “I’ve got something for you.”
He perks up. “Another present?”
“Sort of. It’s nothing big. Remember that old birthday card I made for Grandpa?”
He examines the folded paper in my hands with interest. “Yes.”
