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"What about that?" Shannon asked. "Make Alex a list of all the restaurants you want to visit together. All she ever talks about is the great spots you two visit. It would be perfect for her. Thoughtful,too."
"The only homemade thing there is the list," I argued. "I could give her a list of destinations we should visit or places I'd like tofu—"
"Finish that sentence and you don't get a sandwich," sheinterrupted.
"My bad," I said. "But I don't want to give her a list. I need to do better thanthat."
Shannon nodded as we reached the curb. "I'll keepthinking."
"Could you?" I asked with a wry laugh. "I'm running out of timehere."
After Shannon placed a call to the realtor managing the listing to discuss an offer, she dropped her phone into the cup holder and folded her arms over her chest. "What do you think Alex is givingyou?"
I shook my head as I merged into traffic. "I have no idea," Iadmitted.
"That doesn't help," she murmured. "What about a letter? Something flowing andheartfelt."
I snorted. "Do I look like Sam toyou?"
"Weren't you telling me her bathroom needs a remodel? Why not draw upplans?"
Another snort. "Now I look like Matt?" I asked. "Regardless, that's not going to work. First, she doesn't own the apartment. I don't want to deal with extra layers of bullshit on top of the regular bullshit that comes with building on Beacon Hill. Furthermore"—I held up four fingers; it seemed like I'd made that many points—"she doesn't intend to stay in there long enough to thoroughly enjoy the benefits of that type ofwork."
Shannon blew out a breath, closed her eyes, and rested both hands on her belly. She winced, and I couldn't determine whether I was to blame, or thebaby.
"Fine. Whatever. Don't redo the fucking bathroom. I don't care," she saideventually.
"Is everything okay over there?" Iasked.
"Fine," she repeated. "But don't talk to me until there's a sandwich in myhand."
"What about a photograph?"Shannon stabbed her fork at me as if she was trying to pin the idea onto my skin. "You take enough ofthem—"
"Hold it right there," I interrupted. I was not prepared for this conversation. My preference for X-rated photography had no place in our second lunch. "We're not talking about my—our—that. We're not talking aboutthat."
There will never be a time when my siblings didn't focus on systematically hammering me over one incident where I sent one intimate photo via group text. They'll mention it in toasts at my wedding, they'll tell stories to my children, and they'll engrave it on mytombstone.
Shannon arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking aboutthateither. I'm just saying, I'd love a tasteful image of myself from an era before stretch marks colonized every part of my body. I'm sure Alex would appreciate a photo that represents the way you seeher."
"That's not homemade." I sighed. "The photograph might've been taken at home, but I'd have to print and frame it. That would break therules."
"Fuck the rules," she said. "I'm sure Alex isn't adhering to a literal interpretation of the agreement. I could argue that everything is, in some form, a violation of therules."
"That's because you're a lawyer," Iargued.
"You're damn right it is," she yelled, attracting the attention of everyone in this small café. "The principle gift is the photograph, and I believe it's in keeping with the spirit of theagreement."
"I know this might be hard for you to understand," I started, "but it matters to me that I do this right. I don't want to skate by ontechnicalities."
Shannon set her fork down and clasped her hands. "All right, I don't want to litigate this. I can accept your position even if I don't agree with it," she said. "If not a photograph, what about adrawing?"
I started to object but stopped myself. That might work. "Yeah," I murmured. "I can dothat."
Shannon dragged my basket of french fries closer, plucking a few from the top. "I know you're trying to stay above board—and it's great you've decided to be a law-abiding citizen now—but put it in a cute frame. It doesn't have to be big or ostentatious. Just something lovely she can keep in herbedroom."
I shrugged. "That does sound nice," I said. "Now, where else am I taking youtoday?"
"Wait a second," she said, holding up her hand. "Did we solve your Christmas conundrum? Did we finally, after hundreds of rejectedideas—"
