Rick let Cynthia lead the way. She didn’t go through the main doors of the church but out a side door and down a corridor to an exit. They ended up in a courtyard that had basketball hoops. She gestured toward a wrought-iron fence covered in ivy. “This way. There’s a gate you can’t see.”

At the corner of the fence, she reached through the ivy, and he heard the latch click. The gate swung open, and they stepped out onto a brick patio. Cherry blossom trees created a pink canopy above and the pink carpet below.

Cynthia gestured toward a table and chairs and sat in one of the chairs. “This is my favorite place this time of year. Especially if it’s warm enough to be outside.”

He winked. “It’s rather pink.”

Her laughter floated on the breeze. “All different shades.” She stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. “I scoured the papers this morning but didn’t see any pictures of the two of us. I think you spotted him before he did any damage.”

“That’s good.” He crossed his arms and looked up at the trees. “Is your uncle married?”

“Widower. She’s been gone a long time. I never met her.”

“So, Frances is . . .”

“His housekeeper. She’s worked for him for twenty-seven years. She lives here Monday through Friday, then goes to visit her sister on the weekends. It’s an interesting setup.”

“What does your uncle think about his brother?”

Cynthia grinned. “He constantly prays that my father won’t slide into the darkness.” She sighed. “But seriously, they have a great relationship. I think my father is steady and strong partly because of his brother’s steadfast support.”

“So, your uncle is running a DC church, and your father is the former senator from Virginia. I conclude you’re from this area, right?”

“Yes. My great-grandfather helped build the West Wing of the White House in the thirties. His son, my grandfather, was a judge in Alexandria. That’s how my dad ended up in law school. My mom’s father was a congressman from Maryland. He was a career politician, and she met my father at some law school rally that had to do with her father.”

He nodded. “Impressive.”

“What do your parents do?”

With a smile he said, “My dad owns a hardware store and my mom’s a kindergarten teacher.”

She grinned. “I love that! A kindergarten teacher! She must have the best days.”

“She has good days and bad days. She could fill your ears with stories.”

“I bet!”

The door to the house opened, and Nathaniel came out carrying a stack of plates and a tablecloth. Cynthia stood and took the tablecloth from him. She brushed the petals off the table, then spread the cloth on top of it.

Nathaniel set the plates down. “I have unsweetened tea and diet soda.”

“Tea would be perfect,” Rick said.