Page 17 of The Pink House

“That’s easy enough to change.” He shot her a wink. “How was your day?”

After taking another sip of her ice-cold cola, Hannah munched on several Cheetos and considered. “I’d say nonproductive.”

Instead of talking to her about that being okay once in a while, but not on a regular basis, like Brian would have, Charlie simply pulled another handful of Cheetos out of the bag.

“Hey, don’t eat them all.”

Her protest provoked another grin. “There’s plenty more.”

“I did a foray into the woods.” She answered his unspoken question with a sigh. “No pink house. I’m starting to wonder if I imagined it.”

“Has that been a problem before?”

She frowned, not following.

“Seeing things that aren’t there?” His eyes held an impish gleam. “Pink houses? Little green men?”

“I’ve never seen little green men.”

“Not yet.”

Hannah punched him in the arm and grabbed more Cheetos. She could almost see Brian shaking his head and suggesting a protein shake.

She loved protein shakes, enjoyed how she felt when she ate healthy. But she also enjoyed this. Hannah wiped her orange-tipped fingers on a paper towel.

“So, what are you saying?” She took another long sip of soda. “You don’t think the pink house is real?”

“I absolutely think it’s real.” His tone was surprisingly matter-of-fact. “Don’t you?”

She considered, but said nothing, just ate another handful.

“Just a reminder,” he said, gesturing with his can of beer. “This is you and me having a conversation, not me having a conversation with myself.”

She smiled. “That would be weird.”

“Very weird.”

“Not heavenlike at all.”

“No.”

“Okay, before you came over with your bag of crispy orange treats, I’d nearly convinced myself the house was only in my imagination.”

“Now?”

“I think it’s real.” She chomped down on a Cheeto. “And tomorrow, I’m going to stay in those woods until I find it.”

* * *

When Charlie and his mother did a clambake, they did it up right. Hannah gazed around the Rogan backyard in wonder.

The longest table she’d seen outside of a church soup supper sat toward the front of the backyard. The top, covered with a red-and-white-checked oilcloth and edged in lobster string lights, held a smorgasbord of food.

There were clams, mussels, crab legs and sausages. Corn on the cob, new potatoes, onions, shallots and even artichokes. The peeled-shrimp tower sat next to a large bowl of cocktail sauce.

Several bar carts dotted the backyard. Wandering over, Hannah took note of the galvanized-steel party tub filled with ice and mini bottles of white wine as well as bottles of beer. Pitchers of iced tea, water and lemonade sat nearby.

Hannah gazed down at the lime bars she’d made that morning. They’d seemed like a good choice for a seafood-heavy menu. On what she assumed was the dessert table, she spotted a gelatin salad, fruit kebabs and what appeared to be an orange pound cake.

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