"You just did", say I .
"Did what?" Carl is grinning like a boy with his hand in the cookie jar.
"You just dignified it with a reply."
"Oh stop!" Now he is giggling almost uncontrollably, "Oh behave!"
"But you should see me when I'm really bad", and now I am starting to laugh.
"Oh you flirt!"
"Takes one to know one, Griselda!" And now neither one of us is even trying to hold back our peals of laughter. We are both finally beginning to relax a bit with this venting of nervous energy. We are also flirting with each other, but what else is new? Carl is an attractive man who appears to also find me attractive. But I think we also know better, both of us, than to carry it much further. And really, one of the last things I need right now is for the guest master of the house where I am on spiritual retreat and working through trauma, to start jumping my bones.
"So, anyway, for about two years Griffin and I had established a workable state of detente with each other. Kenny was beginning to really thrive following his rehab, had already integrated well into our household, and became, with me, a regular presence at St. James. He became like my pit bull, my guardian rottweiler and even when we became servers during some of the high masses, the good father knew to keep a safe and respectful distance. Unfortunately, we lost our archbishop, who retired, and then he was succeeded by a politically correct, socially progressive idiot named Michael Ingham. And so began but the very beginning of sorrows..."
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