Page 17 of The Curve
“I had a backup plan if this didn’t work,” I say.
We walk to the back of the room and she picks up her duffle.
“Really? And what was that?”
“Come on,” I say holding the front door open for her to pass. “I was going to make an appointment with you to tailor some pants I have in my car. Brick said you’re a genius at that.”
She starts laughing. “What? Did you think I’d melt when I got close to you?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, Mr. Swift.”
“I thought maybe that’s what you liked about me. I know it’s one of the things I like about you.”
We walk silently to her car, but I know both of us are rehashing the conversation in our minds. When we get to her door, I let her unlock it then hold it open.
“I like a gentleman. Thank you.”
“If you’re a male who grew up in the South, it’s part of your M.O.”
Before she gets in the car, she looks over her shoulder and gazes up at me with those green beauties. “Why don’t you follow me to our place. Mallory and I are having a salmon dinner. Can I tempt you?”
I chuckle. “You can and you have. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you girls.”
“Bring your pants. I’ll measure you.”
Now she’s the one chuckling. Is that a twinkle in her eye I detect?
* * *
“What kindof a word iszoze? Never heard it,” I say.
Mallory looks at me as if I’m an idiot. “You’re kidding? I use it all the time.”
We’re in the middle of our Scrabble game on the coffee table in the living room, and she’s winning.
“Yeah? Use it now,” I challenge.
“Look at the plate of donuts. I’d like some of zoze.”
She holds her straight face for just a few beats before she bursts out laughing.
“Dork,” I say, throwing a tile at her.
“Nerd,” she volleys with two tiles aimed at my head.
“Dinner is almost ready. How about setting the table, you two?” Charlotte calls as she smooths the tablecloth.
“Come on. Bet I can set a table faster than you,” I say to Mallory, laying down the gauntlet.
“You’re on!”
She races ahead of me to the dining table where Charlotte’s stacking the dishes, glasses and silverware. Mallory screams when I push her out of the way so I can get to it first.
“Mom! Atticus is cheating!” she yells.
“Too bad! Nobody said anything about playing fair,” I yell back.
