He says, “You look good,” and hopes it’s enough.
“Thanks, big guy,” Sean says, eyes twinkling. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your knees before.”
The noise Mike makes at that is one he’d rather forget, but Sean’s laughing and his hand is out, fingers tracing against Mike’s freshly shorn beard, and Mike thinks, Yeah, this is good. This can be real good.
X
“FUNNY HOW that works out,” Sean says.
They’ve arrived at the park, Mike carrying the heavy picnic basket on one arm, the other tensed tightly as Sean grips his elbow.
Mike is glaring at what he sees before him.
It seems as if everyone in Amorea decided today would be a good day to go to the park and have a picnic.
He sees Happy, Donald, and Calvin, all of whom should be at their stores right now, studiously avoiding Mike’s gaze as they sit along the fountain at the center of the park.
There’s the Amorea Women’s Club, spread out perfectly on a large checkered blanket, sipping on tall glasses of cold lemonade.
Walter’s there, and Mike knows he should be at the diner. He glances over his shoulder. Sure enough, the diner is empty, the light dimmed. He can see a sign on the door, but can’t quite make it out. He doesn’t really need to see it, though, knowing it probably says some variation of GONE TO PRY IN THE AFFAIRS OF OTHERS. BE BACK SOON!!!
He imagines a similar sign hangs on every business in Amorea at the moment.
He’s going to have some sharp words with a few people later.
“Funny,” Mike says.
Sean squeezes his shoulder. “They mean well.”
“They meddle,” he says.
“They care.”
“Too much.”
“Probably. But it’s to be expected.”
Mike’s glare softens as he glances over at Sean. “It is?”
Sean shrugs. “Since you took your time and all. They just want to see if it was worth the wait.”
Mike sputters.
Sean grins. “Oh look. There’s a spot open by the pond just for us. How lucky are we?” He squeezes Mike’s elbow again and begins to tug him toward the pond.
And Mike thinks maybe he’s the luckiest of all.
THEY ARE largely left alone, and for that Mike is grateful. He thinks there might be certain spies sent in to report back to the rest of Amorea, because every now and then, someone will walk by under the guise of strolling along the lake, hesitating as soon as they are within earshot for the briefest of moments, but moving along rather quickly as soon as Mike starts to frown.
Todd Sturgis is out with his ice cream cart, the bell ringing as he pushes it along the concrete path, cheerfully exclaiming how he has Fudgsicles and Twin Pop popsicles, flavored orange and root beer and lemon and cherry and banana.
There are people blowing bubbles, the oily surface reflecting in the sun. A little dog barks at a croquet game set up on a nearby expanse of green. There are fat clouds in the sky and a cool breeze below.
It’s the perfect summer weekend in Amorea, but Mike’s not fooled at all.
They’re meddling. All of them.
And really, he should be more annoyed than he actually is.