Aromatic smoke billowed out and flew away into the Georgia breeze as Morgan Hamilton lifted the lid on the grill and stepped back. She placed two thick T-bones next to the foil-wrapped vegetables on the grill rack.
“How do you like your steak?” she asked her dinner date.
Kurt Lawson took a sip of his iced tea and smiled. “Cooked well on the outside and a nice even medium in the middle,” he said. “And thank you again. This is great.” He gestured at the goldfish pond.
Morgan set her fork on top of the clean platter and rubbed her palms on the sides of her khaki skirt. She so wanted to impress Kurt. He’d come to church a few times, always alone, always right as the services started. From her perch in the choir loft, she always saw him come in and sit in the same spot, then leave immediatel
