Part 11 (2/2)

”Right,” Kai said, his ears pinking again. He steered me by the elbow back to the kitchen. Grabbing a brown paper bag by the fridge, he pulled me by the hand and called behind his shoulder as we made our way to the front door. ”We'll drop this off with Ruben. You said he was in the blueberries, right?”

”Yes,” Dahlia said, not moving from her swing. ”Tell him dinner is at six. You two will be here, I a.s.sume? I could use some help, fancy chef people.”

”Sure!” I said, heartily.

Kai rolled his eyes at me. ”We'll be here.”

Three hours later, Kai and I took our time making our way back toward Dahlia and Ruben's house. My face and shoulders had taken on a deep pink, and my hair, piled into a messy bun, was hot to the touch. After meeting an effusive and jovial Ruben and handing off his lunch, we had toured the farm. Kai showed me rows of blueberry bushes, strawberry plants, and apple trees. We picked fruit as we walked, tasting, talking, bickering about the best way to use them at their prime. We sat on a sandy spot on the river's edge, letting our feet get tugged along with the gentle current. We stood against the trunk of an apple tree, crushed blossoms still littering the ground, and kissed each other like we meant it.

I watched Kai's face as he told me about how much he loved his family, even with their intrusive questions and constant advice. His eyes softened when he described his nieces and nephew. The lines around his mouth deepened as he laughed through a story of when he and Gemma had hung out the upstairs window to spy on Dahlia and a high school boyfriend, only to be found out when he slipped on the windowsill and fell to the lilac bushes below. A broken arm and Dahlia's weeks of merciless rebuke made him give up eavesdropping for good. Kai's face, I decided, was one I could imagine watching for many, many years and not ever tire of it.

We followed a wooden fence line, and as we topped a lush, green hill, we glimpsed the house in the distance. Gra.s.shoppers flew up around the path we cut through the gra.s.s, and the sun continued its slow drop toward the horizon. The air was close and warm, dancing among the trees and the alive summertime light. I took Kai's arm, and he moved closer to me as we walked.

”So what's the deal with never taking a girl back here? I would think you'd be an easy sell once she saw this place.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. ”An obnoxious sister and an afternoon in the orchard is all it takes?”

”Pretty much.”

”Well,” he said, slowing his stride as we neared the house, ”I came close once. The skinny lunch girl Dahlia was telling you about. You know her, actually.”

”I do?” I scanned my mental images of Kai and another girl and, happily, came up empty.

”Suns.h.i.+ne. The server at Howie's.”

I felt my heart drop. The girl was gorgeous. And she had dreads. This was horrible news.

”We dated for a while, and I think she wanted more, but I just didn't. I felt bad about it, really. She's a nice girl.”

I nodded, going for nonchalance. ”You never took her here. That's interesting.”

He stopped and pulled me into him. ”You're gloating.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile.

”Am not,” I said, tipping my chin. ”Suns.h.i.+ne is a lovely person. And a very good server.”

”Ouch,” Kai said, wincing. ”Might have heard a little sn.o.bbery in there. A lowly server, not a chef. At least she could go on a date more than once a month.” He still smiled, but I heard a quiet rumble of discontent underneath his words.

I kept my arms around him, forcing him to stay close to me. ”I'm working on that,” I said, starting to kiss his check, his neck, his lower lip. ”This too shall pa.s.s. Maybe sooner than later.”

”Mmm,” he said, not appearing to be as interested in conversation as he had been moments prior. ”That's nice.”

”Kai! Kai! Stop lip-locking and get yourself over here! And bring the girl !”

Kai groaned into my hair. ”You've got to be kidding me.”

I giggled, peeking around his shoulders at the woman waving at us from the open kitchen window. ”Is that Dahlia?”

”Nope,” he said, dragging his feet and me behind him. ”It's the other one. Apparently Gemma drove all the way from Portland to meet you.”

”Portland's five hours away!”

”These women will stop at nothing to make me uncomfortable.”

I laughed. ”This day gets better and better,” I said, dodging Kai as he tried to pull me back to the car and Seattle. I quickened my pace to match his determined stride. Still laughing, I said, ”I'm so excited there are two of them.” I waved to Gemma, who was bouncing on the top step of the porch.

”Let's do this,” Kai said, begrudgingly. ”The sooner we start, the sooner it's over. And in advance, I'll just apologize now for the stories about my acne in junior high, my indescretions at Homecoming soph.o.m.ore year when I asked two girls to the dance but didn't tell them that, and, always a family favorite, the story of when I bet Morris Harper I could beat him in a cherry pie eating contest and I ended up on IV fluids.”

I tried to tamp down my grin but wasn't entirely successful. ”This is going to be fantastic.”

Kai shook his head as we ascended the stairs and became enveloped in a three-person hug with Gemma.

”Charlie, we have so much to talk about!” Gemma said into my hair. I saw Kai raise one eyebrow in victory.

15.

FRIDAY morning, back at Thrill and a world away from the laughter and comfort food of Forsythia Farms, I paced along the back hallway outside Avery's office. I'd arrived early for the meeting Margot had called in a late-night email, and I wanted to take the extra minutes to rehea.r.s.e my lines. Not lines for an upcoming episode, but lines for my speech. I could hear a murmur of voices behind the door, and I knew Margot, Vic, and Avery were already inside. Turning my back to the door, I began walking again, deciding to wait a few more moments before knocking.

A thousand years prior, I had competed on the debate team for one semester in high school. What were the maxims of oral persuasion again? I tried to remember the acronym ... PCPF? Posture, Clarity, Poise, Focus? Or were they Posture, Clarity, Purpose, and Finality? I knew posture had to be in there because we used to mock Trish Friars for her exceptional, nipple-noteworthy posture during her turn on the stand.

Turning back once I reached the end of the hallway, I rolled my shoulders and cleared my throat, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of the kitchen. With one last deep breath, I came to stand in front of Avery's office door. I knocked a peppy rhythm with my knuckles, and the door swung open.

Vic clasped his hands. ”There she is,” he said in a radio announcer voice. We air kissed, and he opened one arm to allow me into the cramped room. ”A few days off can make all the difference, can't they? Doesn't she look refreshed and renewed, folks?”

Avery sat in one of three chairs gathered into a tight semi-circle. His expression was difficult to read. Chagrined, or maybe brooding? He turned to nod at me but didn't rise from his chair.

Margot leaned against Avery's desk. A half smile formed on her thin, painted lips. ”You look great, Charlie. How was your vacation?”

It struck me as a bit ridiculous that we were calling thirty-six hours a ”vacation,” but I played along. ”It was wonderful. Thank you.” I sat down in the chair offered by Vic and tucked my ankles under the seat in an effort to avoid knee-knocking one of the men.

”Good,” Margot said, voluminous gold hoops swinging when she directed a chin nod at Avery. ”We were just chatting with Avery about the response from Network. We sent them some footage from the last few weeks, and they were very pleased, much more so than with the pilot we filmed before you arrived, Charlie.”

I managed a weak smile. About that ...

”They gave the green light to film the rest of the season.” Margot beamed, a sudden s.h.i.+ft that appeared to require some effort. ”Perfect timing, then, for you to return rested and ready to go. The next few weeks are going to be intense, very time-consuming. You'll need all your strength, plus your sharp wit and perfect camera face, two attributes Network particularly loved.”

I swallowed. ”Actually, I'd like to talk to you about the schedule.”

Vic tried crossing his legs but gave up in the limited s.p.a.ce. Avery kept his eyes on the floor.

”We'll get to the schedule in a moment,” Margot said. She positioned a pair of reading gla.s.ses onto her long nose and looked through them at a clipboard on the desk beside her. ”First, I want to be clear about the contract.”

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