It has been a long time since I enjoyed an evening so very much. I cannot help but feel quite proud of myself—well, “smug” is the word that Brid used, and she is not wrong. But after all, was it not my idea to bring Kara and Freya together? Did I not persuade her to stay in touch with George? And I may not have had much to do with her meeting Elliott, but I was the one who encouraged her to bring them all together. And who would not be pleased by the result?
It was a beautiful evening, with the sun just beginning to angle down into the vicinity of the horizon. Freya was mixing drinks when the first knock came on the door. She ran to answer it, pausing only a moment to check her hair in the hall mirror.
It was George, a bottle of wine in his hand. She scowled at it. “I told you not to bring anything! We aren’t going to need that.”
“My mother taught me better than that,” he said, stepping into the house and kissing Freya’s cheek. I watched carefully, but there seems to be no lingering awkwardness between the two of them. “And if we don’t get to it tonight, you can save it and we’ll come over another time.”
This idea met with approval.
Elliott, arriving a few minutes later, also had disregarded Freya’s instruction, but she did not protest the bouquet of yellow roses. He talked about work with George for a few minutes while Freya put the flowers in water.
Kara didn’t bother to knock. She walked right into the house, one hand resting on her purse and the other on her hip, and stood looking critically at the two men. Both of them blinked at her, and George inhaled sharply.
“There you are, Kara,” Freya said, coming back into the room with drinks.
“You said not to bring anything, so I didn’t,” Kara said. She put down her purse and surveyed the men. “Which one’s which?”
George jumped up to introduce himself, smiling at her. His attraction to her was clear as day, and it made me laugh. Freya could see it too, and she immediately wondered if Kara was interested, as well. I am not quite certain on that score—Kara is not quite as easy to read, and I don’t know her as well as I know George. But I think it is a possibility.
Even without the potential for new love, the evening was a brilliant success. By the time the first drinks were finished, the atmosphere had settled into an easy warmth, sparked occasionally by passionate debates or discussions. The conversation wandered from politics to work to movies to friendships to relationships, and with me there to ease any uncertainty, they confided well in one another.
After dinner they played games, and at one point Freya returned from the kitchen to see Elliott and Kara arm-wrestling, while George egged them on, laughing. She leaned in the doorway and smiled at them.
Over her shoulder, I whispered, “Families do not have to be in blood.”
Her smile widened. Then she laughed as Kara wrested Elliott’s hand to the table and shot to her feet in victory. George pantomimed bowing deeply to her, while Elliott curled in a ball on the sofa in mock shame. All three were laughing.
“All right, all right, we all need to calm down,” Freya said. “Maybe we should break into that bottle after all, George.”
He grinned at her. “See, I told you we’d use it.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Stop, stop,” Elliott said. “Adults of drinking age should not fight like children.”
“Don’t stop them,” Kara said, “more wine for us.”
I watched them fondly, and I spread my wings over all of them to bless the gathering. “May this be a foundation for you all,” I said. “May you build on this beginning and make a friendship that will last for years to come.”
In the middle of pushing Elliott into the kitchen, Freya looked back at Kara. “We should make this a regular thing,” she said. “Drinks and dinner and shenanigans.”
“I’m always down for some shenanigans,” Elliott said, coming back to sling an arm around Freya’s shoulders.
“Me, too,” George said.
Kara snorted. “As long as I don’t have to cook.”
“Shenanigans it is, then,” Elliott said, and leaned down to kiss Freya and seal the deal. “Should we do monthly then? Mid-July?”
“Sounds good to me,” Kara said. “Now, if nobody else is going to pour, I’ll do it myself.” She edged past Elliott and Freya, making a face at them. Winking at Freya, George followed her.
Freya put her arms around Elliott’s neck and studied his face, wondering where the two of them would be in a month’s time.
“Does it matter?” I asked her. “You are happy with him now. Do not be afraid of the future, because whatever happens, you will not face it alone.”
“What?” Elliott asked her.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, and she leaned up to kiss him.