Reagan laughed. She leaned on the railing of the deck. She was tired of standing.

“They’re in there eating pie,” Mason said.

“How long has it been since you’ve all gotten together?”

“Indoors? Months. Probably June or July.”

She nodded.

“Is your family all being careful?” he asked.

“God no, they’re all at my mom’s house. They’ve been acting normal this whole time. I haven’t seen my mom since March.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. She still calls me every other day. And texts me weird YouTube videos.”

Mason laughed. “I don’t think my mom knows how to get on YouTube.”

“Count your fucking blessings.”

“I do.” He looked down again, still kind of chuckling. “It’s not fair,” he said, more seriously. “I made that pie.”

“I’m impressed,” Reagan said. “I struggled with the Jell-O salad.”

He looked up. “I thought that might be Jell-O salad . . . What kind did you make?”

“Green.”

“Green is the best,” he said.

“Green is the best,” she agreed.

“I’m impressed.”

Reagan smiled at him. Only because he couldn’t see it. “Wait right there.”

She turned around and walked into the house. Into the kitchen. The Jell-O was in the fridge.

“You talking to somebody?” her grandpa called from the living room.

“Just Mason,” she said.

“I like that Mason. He’s got a job in Washington.”

“Mm-hmm.” Reagan got two everyday bowls out of the cupboard. Blue-and-white Pfaltzgraff. “Do you want anything while I’m in here?”

“No, thanks. I’m still stuffed.”

“All right.” Reagan took the bowls out onto the deck. Mason was still standing there, with his hands in his pockets. He laughed when he saw her.

“I’m not sure how to do this,” she said.

“You could set it on the deck, then back away from it.”

“Yeah, all right.” She set one of the bowls down and then stepped back.

Mason sat on the edge of his deck and slid under the wood railing, hopping to the ground. It wasn’t much of a drop. He took the bowl and climbed back onto the deck, using the stairs. Then he leaned against the railing across from Reagan again. “It looks perfect,” he said. “Are there layers?”

“It’s just Cool Whip and cherries,” Reagan said. “Also—there are pecans in there.”

“Yeah there are.”

“In case you’re allergic.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, good.”

He was looking at it.

“You can eat it,” she said.

“Now?”

“Yeah, we’ll just keep our distance.”

“All right.” He sat down at one end of his deck.