As they rounded a bend in the path, the house’s front facade came into view between the trees. Major and Johnny sat on the front porch.

“See, he’s home,” Astrid said, and waved.

The men waved back but didn’t call out or beckon. Kennet kept walking.

“You don’t want to go up?” Astrid asked, her arm pulling out long now.

“No,” Kennet said, more abruptly than he intended.

Her hand slid from his. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Just…it’s sort of an unwritten family rule. If Major and Johnny are together and alone, we leave them alone.”

“Oh.” She looked back at the two men on the porch a moment. “Are they lovers?”

“What?” His voice was raised and perhaps his demeanor was menacing, for Astrid stepped back from him, expression horrified and fingertips touching her mouth.

“Oh my God, Nyck, what a tactless thing to say. I’m sorry.”

“How in the hell—”

“I offended you. I’m so sorry. It was thoughtless.”

She kept moving back and he kept advancing. But a rock caught the edge of his sneaker and he tripped. He almost went sprawling flat on his face, but recovered enough to get a knee and a hand down in the gravel. And then he was laughing.

“What?” she cried. “Don’t make me stand here with my foot in my mouth.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m laughing at the stupidity.”

She crossed her arms. “My stupidity?”

“No, mine. Holy mackerel…”

Her toe tapped the path several times. “Well, if you don’t mind, I will now take the boat and leave you here to laugh yourself to death.”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh, get up, you fat-head.”

Kennet staggered up, still wheezing. “Yes, they’re lovers. And yes, everyone knows it. We know everyone knows and we just pretend nobody knows and we all talk around the subject. You’re the first person who ever looked at them and said, ‘Oh, they’re lovers? Interesting. Pass the salt, please.’” He started chuckling helplessly again.

“Honest to God, Nyck,” she said, fists on her hips now. Indignant, but smiling. “First you blush telling me about your parents’ shotgun wedding. Now you’re shocked I know about queer men. I’m a little concerned by how sheltered a life you think I’ve lived.”

“I honestly didn’t contemplate what you’d know. I’m so conditioned to dance around the subject, even my thoughts do the Charleston.”

She shrugged. “What’s to think about? Your uncle is queer and you love him anyway. Pass the salt.”

His laughter died. “I don’t fool myself that everyone feels the same.”

“No. You’re loyal but you’re not naive and…” She bit her lip. “And I’m about to say something tactless again.”

“Pass the pepper?”