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“They could have set up awnings or something.” Florence gulped some of the cold water, then handed it back.

“And you could have had an attitude readjustment,” said Eleanor, accepting the bottle. “Jesus, Flo, you're jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof and you kind of sound like you're about to start yelling at these kids to get off your lawn.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” said Eleanor, sliding the bottle away again. “This is supposed to be a happy and joyous occasion, or so I've heard.”

“I am happy.” She was, really she was. Just... she was other things as well. Most notably at the moment these included far too hot, uncomfortable with sitting on a metal bench, and anxious.

The anxiety had been growing over the last few months, though it had taken her a while to identify what was going on. Slowly at first, it had begun sneaking up on her, tinging everything a gray color that she hated.

“Hadley's worked her butt off for this,” Eleanor was saying. “Four years of school and she's finally done, I'd have thought that you'd be a little happier for her.”

“I am happy,” Florence said again, but slightly less convincingly.

On stage, a man was droning on about something. The sound system squealed, but the words still didn't reach the bleachers as anything other than melodic mumbling.

Eleanor turned to look at Florence. “Wanna talk?”

“What are we currently doing?”

Eleanor sighed. “Flo, what's going on? Come on, you know you can talk to me. What's all this about? Are you worried about the business, because I thought all that was in hand?”

“No, no. It is all in hand. Hadley's father helped us put together a business plan, and he's even invested some money himself. I'm luckier than I have any right to be.”

“Are you in debt again?” Eleanor's face was kind, but she was always direct and to the point.

“No more than usual,” Florence said. “I mean, I'm keeping up with my payment plan, and it's definitely under control.”

“So what is it then?”

“Nothing!”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “It's Hadley, isn't it?”

“No!”

“Don't lie to me, Florence Underwood.”

It was Florence's turn to sigh. “You know, I really regret teaching you and Hadley the secret to my authoritative voice,” she said. “But you should know that it doesn't work on me of all people.”

“Talk, Flo.”

She looked back out over the crowd of students, wishing she could pinpoint which was Hadley. Then she shrugged. “I don't know, it's just, well, this seems like an ending to things, you know?”

“An ending,” Eleanor laughed. “She's graduating, surely that's a beginning.”

Florence looked down at her hands. “Maybe. But what if it's a beginning of something else, what if...” She trailed off, not wanting to put real words onto what she was afraid of.

Eleanor reached out to take her hand. “Flo, you're being silly.”

“I know.” Knowing it didn't make it any better.

“Look at the last four years,” Eleanor said reasonably. “The two of you have moved in together. You've spent Christmas with her family, and Thanksgiving with yours.”

Florence grimaced at the memory of the disastrous Thanksgiving they'd spent with her parents. Her mother had made a nut roast instead of turkey, and her father had tried to get Hadley high on some plant he claimed the Native Americans used all the time.

It had been fun though, she had to admit to herself. Curled under a blanket and laughing with Hadley as they drank glasses of her father's homemade wine.