Ariana had pencil and paper in hand, trying to whittle the grocery list down to affordable and still get what was needed. When she wasn’t scratching items off, she was staring out the open window, deep in thought. “Why aren’t you out with Rudy on a Friday night?” “Hmm?” She turned, the distant look in her eyes fading. “Oh. I think he must’ve gotten behind at work. His aunt dropped by the house this morning to say he had things he needed to do this weekend.” Ariana tapped the pencil on the paper. “Quill’s fund-raising suggestion?” She had asked Abram a few times to share his thoughts, but he really didn’t want to. In contrast to her being a helium balloon and an optimist, he was a weight and a realist. And to an optimist, a dose of reality only sounded like pessimism. “Kumm on, Abram. Speak up.” He shrugged. “You’re not going to like it, and I could be wrong.” “Still, if you don’t tell me, I won’t be forewarned, right?” “The last thing I want to do is be discouraging.”
