“I want to get a better look,” she said, taking a few steps toward the cabin.

“Claudine!” Henry said, as loud as he thought he could without attracting Mr. Miller’s attention. “This isn’t funny.”

She continued to walk across the meadow, neither fast nor slow, her movements methodical, determined. Even in the overcast darkness, the beauty of the land was on full display. She marched on, taking it all in.

Henry didn’t dare call her again but inched out from the grove.

It looked like the old man might have seen her through the window, because then he was on the porch. He stared out into the meadow, scanning in all directions. Claudine just stood there staring back at him, now maybe thirty yards away. Was his eyesight bad? Could he not see her? Mr. Miller did not call out to her, and Claudine said nothing. After a few more moments the old man went back inside. Claudine turned and walked calmly back to Henry.

He stood paralyzed, waiting for her to reach him. When she did, her eyes were big, her cheeks flushed.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered, his breath uneven. Everyone responds differently to danger, and Henry froze up. But Claudine looked radiant. Exhilarated. Turned on.

“This is it,” she said. “This is the place. Our land. We’ll build the house here.”

Henry started to protest but she put a finger to his lips, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down to his knees.

Part Three

The Game