Page 73 of Keepsake
I had no snarky comment to make about that. Griff took good care of his family even when it got embarrassing.
“And then I realized how sexist it was to only speak to one twin. So I took the banana and the condoms and knocked on Daphne’s door.”
Now I laughed, trying to picture it.
“Yeah. That conversation went differently. She said, ‘Let me show you this text on women’s health I read when I was fourteen.’ This thing was as thick as the phone book. Daphne said, ‘I know chapter and verse about birth control and STDs. I don’t need to discuss my vagina with my big brother, and don’t forget I’m handy with the shotgun.’ So I took my banana and ran away.”
I doubled over.
“So thank you for not threatening my life when I tried to make my little speech.”
“No problem,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“There’s always condoms in the glove box of the truck, by the way. I leave them there for Dylan or Kyle or whoever.”
“Message received.” We worked quietly for a while. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time about getting involved with Lark.”
Griffin shook his head. “That’s not my business. I didn’t want people hitting on her when she showed up. Just out of concern for her mental health, you know? But that’s not your style, and I know it’s not like that.”
“It really isn’t like that.”
Griff lifted his chin to study me.
“What?”
“Just hope you don’t get your heart broken, that’s all. I’m not criticizing. But I don’t know if Lark’s head is in the right place. I’m sure she cares for you, but I don’t know her plans.”
I didn’t either. And it bothered me, though I wasn’t about to say so.
Luckily, Griff’s phone rang. “Could be Jude or the plumber with a question.” He pulled out the phone. “Baby!” he said. “What’s happening in Paris? Do you miss me?”
Saved by Audrey instead. I set up the next barrel while Griffin chatted with his fiancée. The sweet nothings they exchanged sounded like this: “And what kind of yeast are they using for the second fermentation? Ah, interesting.”
Right before lunchtime, Jude arrived with news from the bungalow where he’d been watching the plumbers for Griffin. “Everything looks great. I brought pictures.” He pulled out his phone to show Griffin shots of the new work.
“It’s really coming together!” Griff hooted. “Let me buy lunch, which is probably a sandwich my mother made.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We all headed back to the farmhouse. Lark and her parents were already there, helping Ruth get lunch on the table.
They’re probably perfectly nice people, I reminded myself. But it unnerved me that Lark’s family was both rich and brainy. Lark had told me that both her parents were college professors. Her father taught at Harvard Law School. Her mother studied cells in a lab.
Lark set down the knife she was using to slice Ruth’s homemade pickles. She crossed the kitchen when I appeared and gave me a pickle-scented hug. It was just a quick embrace, the same as she might give May at the end of the day. But I’ve never appreciated any gesture more.
She claimed me, right in front of her family and the Shipleys. And just like that, the worry train in my head ground to a halt.
Ruth had set up a make-your-own-sandwich bar on the sideboard. “Please dig in,” she said. “I’m just going to run the sandwiches I made for the day crew out to the orchard.”
I spotted the lunch basket near the door. “I’ll do it,” I said quickly, picking it up before she could argue. She had guests to attend to. “Be right back.”
Fifteen minutes later—after dropping off the lunch and taking some heckling from Kyle—I went back into the dining room and made myself a plate.
Griff and Lark were talking about their college days, which made sense because that’s where Lark had met the Shipleys.
“I sent a bottle of cider to that professor last fall,” Griff said. “With a note telling him that organic chemistry was coming in handy in the cider house. His reply came the following week, asking where he could obtain more samples of my chemistry. For research purposes, of course.”
Everyone laughed. I pulled back a chair beside Ruth and sat down.
