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“Lizzie." The gentle touch of fingertips on my knee has me jolting out of a downward spiral. I discover, with surprise, that my breathing is heavy and my palms more than a little clammy.
Alice is watching me with concern.
“You okay?”
I open my mouth to reassure her, but a voice from on high has us both jumping out of our skins.
“What exactly are you two doing?”
“Geez,” I say again, a hand to my pounding heart. “I’m not going to need my cardio today.” For her part, Alice looks just as startled. “You scared us, David. Can’t you just clear your throat like a normal person?”
“Normal?” David is peering at us over the desk, his chest against its top and fingers curled around its edge, holding him in place. He raises an eyebrow at us. “Says the girl picnicking on a cold church floor. You realize there are probably dead people buried under there, right?”
“No. They were exhumed and moved to Lady Catherine’s when it was converted.” Alice blinks, apparently surprised at her own words. She’d answered on instinct, like a contestant on a game-show.
“Still,” I add. “He has a point about the ‘cold’ thing. Come on.”
We scramble back up to our feet with David shaking his head at us. I introduce the two of them but names and nods of welcome don’t deter David from his original question.
“What were you even doing down there?”
To save on Alice’s blushes and my nerves—nerves that are suddenly feeling a tad raw—I shrug nonchalantly.
“Just discussing our favorite fantasies. Care to offer up your own?”
Not for the first time in David’s company, I suddenly want to bite off my own tongue.
Yeah, sure, Lizzie. My fantasy would be for my husband to not be dead.
Sometimes tact is entirely beyond me, I swear it.
David, however, is a total trooper. He’s quick on the draw with an answer. Doesn’t even blink.
“Dermot Mulroney,” he says, “wearing only maple syrup.”
I snort, and Alice looks like she now has a mental image she wasn’t prepared for.
“I told you,” I tell her. “Wrong team.”
“Excuse me,” David corrects, holding up a finger. “I actually play for your team. You just don’t like having the competition.”
Before either of us can attest to that, a bolt of teenager hits the welcome desk!
Alice’s little sister Evelyn—Evie—flies in out of nowhere, hands grabbing onto the desk ledge before she plows chest first into the thing.
“Ally!” she breathes, flushed with youthful excitement. “Can I go over to Holly’s? Please?! Oh, hey Lizzie!”
“Hi.” I raise a hand in howdy. As nice as the hello is, I’m clearly not the focus of Evie’s attention, right now. Her stare is fixed on Alice, all puppy-dog.
“When?” Alice asks, cautious in giving permission.
“Now. She has the new Arc Adventures expansion and we wanna play!”
“Did you finish your homework?”
Had Evie been asking for advice on whether or not to join the drama club, I’d have told her then and there that it was a bad idea. The girl has no skill in duplicity. It’s written all over her face that she has decided not finished her homework.
Sucking my lips into my mouth to keep from smiling, I glance over at David.
