Not for the first time, I wanted to kick myself for being so obsessed with Calvin Standingbear — for no good reason, as far as I could tell — that I couldn’t even see when something great was right in front of my face. Some psychic I was.
But chemistry wasn’t something you could turn on and turn off like a faucet, so I knew there wasn’t much I could do to change the situation, no matter how much inner chiding I might inflict on myself. Instead, I sent Chuck a grateful smile and said, “Sounds good.”
I slipped my weekender bag over one arm, and then the two of us extracted the trays and food from the back of the car. The cheese and meat were pre-sliced, the Litha honey cakes sitting on their own plates, but I’d left cutting up the fruit for the last minute, since I didn’t want anything to
