Page 27 of Making It Burn

"Coffee would be great, thank you."

As if summoned by dark magic, Gracie materialized in the doorway with a fresh cup of coffee.She crossed the room with her characteristic glacial pace and handed it to Mason, her eyes never leaving his face.

The silence stretched for approximately three seconds—long enough for Gracie to conduct a full assessment of Mason's character, his intentions, and probably his credit score.

Then she looked at me.

Her expression didn't change, but I saw it anyway: the slight softening around her eyes, the almost imperceptible nod.

Oh, so this is the boy trouble, her gaze said.He'll do.

"Thank you," Mason said to Gracie, his tone respectful.

"You're welcome."Gracie's voice was neutral, but when she turned to leave, she caught my eye and one corner of her mouth twitched.

Right here, in my parents' icy dining room, I was going to die of embarrassment.

"So, Mason," my mother said, settling back into her chair, "Beau mentioned you two went to rival high schools?"

Mason glanced at me, and I could see the question in his eyes: How much do they know?

"We did," Mason said carefully."Lacrosse rivalry.It was...competitive."

"Competitive," my father repeated, his tone suggesting he knew there was more to the story."Beau was quite good, as I recall.Made all-state his senior year."

"He was excellent," Mason said, and something in his voice made my chest tighten."We both were."

My mother smiled."Well, how wonderful that you're working together now.Life has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

"Mom—"

"What?I'm simply making conversation."

The front door opened, and one of the movers called out, "Mr.Thatcher?We're all loaded up.Ready to head over whenever you are."

"Great.Perfect.We should go."I looked at Mason."I'll drive you to the condo—the movers are meeting us there."

Mason set down his coffee cup."Sounds good."

"It was lovely to meet you, Mason," my mother said."I do hope we'll see you again."

"The pleasure was mine, Mrs.Thatcher.Mr.Thatcher."Mason shook my father's hand again.

We made it to the front door, and I thought we were home free until Gracie appeared one last time, blocking the doorway like an ancient guardian.

She looked at Mason, then at me, then back to Mason.

"You take care of him," she said quietly.Not a request.A command.

Mason's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded."Yes, ma'am."

"Good."She stepped aside, but as I passed her, she caught my arm.Her grip was surprisingly strong."This one's got good bones," she whispered."Don't mess it up."

"Gracie, it's not—"

"Mm-hmm."She patted my cheek with a weathered hand."I've known you since you were born, Mr.Beau.It's exactly like that."

Then she was gone, shuffling back toward the kitchen, leaving me standing in the foyer with my face on fire.