“Can you bear another picnic?” he asked.
It was beautiful where they were. Overhanging trees closed them in, and she could hear running water in the distance. “If this is where the picnics are, I can stand them every day.”
“Come on, then,” Ramsey said as he started walking. She followed him down a path until they came to a meadow that was covered in spring wildflowers.
It was while they were crossing the meadow that Jocelyn got the idea that Ramsey had something important to tell her, something that he didn’t want to say in a public place, like his office or a restaurant. She hoped it wasn’t something that was guaranteed to make her cry.
When he looked back at her, she said, “It’s beautiful here,” and gave no hint as to what she was thinking.
“Virginia on a bad day is still the best there is.”
“And this is a scientific observation?”
“Yes. Utterly without prejudice.” He was walking backward in front of her, through the meadow, the sunlight glistening off his hair and his blue shirt. “Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get back to the office,” he said, teasing.
“Why, whatever do you mean, Mr. McDowell?”
When he reached a row of trees, he slowed as he walked into them and waited for her to catch up. “My grandfather planted these trees,” he said once they were in the shade.
“Does that mean you own this land?”
“My sister and I do. She and her husband are building a house on the other side of the meadow.”
“Do you plan to build here?”
“Maybe,” Ramsey said. They had come to a little creek, with willows hanging over the water. “Do you like this place?”
“Very much,” she said. “Where would you put your house?”
He gave her a sharp glance. “You’re worried that I’ll put in some concrete monstrosity in the middle of the meadow, aren’t you?” He spread the quilt in the shade on a flat piece of land.
“It went through my mind.”
“Farther up is a site where an old house burned down. The trees are gone and it’s open land. I’d build there and keep all this exactly as it is.” He motioned to the pretty little creek as he put the basket on the quilt and opened it. “I have no idea what’s in here. Tess—” He broke off.
“Tess packed it,” Jocelyn said. “I know. I’m getting the picture. I guess you heard what we did with all the welcome food that was left at my house.”
“Yeah,” Ramsey said, smiling. “Tess is like that. She thinks of people with less than she has.”
As Jocelyn looked at him, she again wondered how much was between him and Tess.
“Don’t you start too,” he said as he pulled a loaf of bread out of the basket, and she knew he meant speculating on him and Tess. “If this is from Aunt Ellie’s store, you can bet that it’s half twigs and a quarter bark.”
“You don’t like it?”
“Love it!” he said loudly, then lowered his voice, “but sometimes when I’m out of town I order a tuna on white. Not whole wheat, but plain ol’ white bread. Every time I do it, I expect Aunt Ellie to run through the door and lecture me on my digestive system.”
“Tell her that white bread goes well with tequila.”
At that, Ramsey gave a laugh. “You have picked up a lot about our residents, haven’t you?”
“One or two things.” She got on her knees, brushed his hands away, and began to unpack the basket. It was full of things that she loved: brie, crackers, olives, three kinds of berries, what looked to be homemade pâté, coleslaw, and bottles of juice. “Lovely.”
“It’s my guess that Tess watched what you ate yesterday, memorized it, and applied it to the basket.”
“How scientific,” Jocelyn said as she spread the meal on the quilt. There were plates in the bottom, and she put them out. She unscrewed the cap off a bottle of juice and started to pour some into a paper cup, but he took the bottle. She watched as he put it to his lips and drank. She liked that he didn’t “swallow” the rim, but put his upper lip across the top.
She looked out at the stream and said, “Would you like to tell me whatever it is that you’re dreading telling me?”