profile and saw a smile teasing his lips. His eyes stared straight ahead as he walked up to a dark green BMW. Though in general cars didn’t interest me, I couldn’t help noticing how nice this one was. I arched an eyebrow. “What, no convertible?”
“It would be a great finishing touch, wouldn’t it?” Aaron unlocked the car. “Couldn’t afford it. But I have a really sweet sunroof.”
I turned my gaze to the roof of the car as I slid into the passenger seat. “What do you mean, you couldn’t afford it?”
“Ah.” He slid a pair of sunglasses on and then swiveled around in his seat, looking behind us as he backed up. It was mostly dark outside, but some sunlight hovered on the horizon, right at eye-height. “You think all English kids get handed exotic European sports cars by their rich mummies and daddies.”
“Something like that,” I said, feeling my face warm. “I’m guessing I’m wrong?” The good thing about him wearing sunglasses was I could look at him. I couldn’t see his eyes at all, only my own reflection looking back at me. I instantly felt more at ease.
“You’re wrong in my case.” Aaron flashed me a smile, exposing a dimple on his right cheek. “My parents paid for half.”
I still wouldn’t have been able to pay for half of a car like this. “And where did you get your half?”
We stopped at a light and Aaron pulled up the GPS on the dash. “All right, I admit it, I took some out of my savings account. But I had a job in England. I earned my own money.”
“I’m impressed,” I said. I couldn’t imagine Dana working. She had no need to, not when everything was handed to her. “What did you do?”
He cleared his throat. “I, er, worked in a hospital.”
I squinted at him. “Like a nurse? A medical assistant? They let kids do that in England?”
He fidgeted in his chair, running one hand over the steering wheel. “Not exactly. Here we are.”
I turned my attention to the view outside as we parked. We were at a playground. It was empty except for the ducks on the pond this time of day, with the light-posts already turned on and crickets starting their evening chorus. “What are we doing here?”
“I thought we’d have a picnic.” Aaron got out of the car and went to the trunk. I climbed out also.
“A picnic?” I echoed, rubbing my arms as a cool breeze tickled the hairs. A large white swan settled on the pond, and I watched the majestic creature fold its wings in as it floated on the water. Swans always gave me a peaceful feeling.
Aaron retrieved a picnic basket and a thick blanket. “It would be better with moonlight, but this will work. Maybe we’ll see a star or two.” He spread the cloth out on the grass and sat down. “I hope you like salads.”
I settled next to him. “Are you telling me I need to be on a diet?”
“Not that kind of salad.” He pulled out several containers. “Potato salad, macaroni salad, chicken salad. And just for fun, a can of sardines.”
“No way.” I laughed. “You don’t actually eat those.”
He held the can to his nose and sniffed it. “Mmm. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“I’d like to keep it that way, thanks. Did you make all this food?”
“No. A cook I am not. But the deli by your work seems to be quite adept at such tasks.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to love anything slathered in mayo.” I spooned some of all three salads onto a paper plate. “Why the picnic?”
I could feel his eyes on me as I ate. “It sounded like fun.” He shrugged, a motion I saw from my peripheral vision. “So you want to be a journalist?”
I sputtered on some chicken salad. Aaron popped open a can of juice and handed it to me. I took several gulps before trusting myself to speak again. “Who told you that?”
“I saw the school newspaper from last week. You have a byline.”
Of course. I relaxed. “Well, kind of. I want to be a sportscaster. But I’d prefer not to be seen. So the written
Rachel Cantor
Halldór Laxness
Tami Hoag
Andrew Hallam
Sarah Gilman
Greg Kincaid
Robert Fagles Virgil, Bernard Knox
Margaret Grace
Julie Kenner
James Bibby