From the Gazebo

Dusk deepens, turning the sky deep violet. Fireflies appear, flecks of brilliance dotting the air outside the gazebo. Silence, broken only by birdsong, is companionable.

Raising the chilled glass to his lips, he drinks. Swallows. Smiles.

"So, are we done planting?" His voice holds amusement.

"Pretty much."

"Pretty much? You've got to be kidding, right?"

"Why would I kid you?" She sips a daquiri, catching a dribble of condensation from the glass's edge with a finger. She passes her fingertip across the leg of her denim shorts, noting the heat in her thigh. Sunburn? Maybe. They've spent the afternoon in the gardens. As usual, she's forgotten to sunscreen her legs. "We're done--almost."

His sigh is exaggerated. For a moment the crickets' chirping is the only conversation. Then, "So you're saying we've still got stuff to plant?"

"Mmm hmm..."

"What?"

"Oh, this and that." She grins, knowing full well the effect her answers have. Teasing, after so many years, comes easily between them.

"Well, as long as we don't have to plant any more zucchini," he says, pausing to take a swallow of his drink. "There's enough zucchini in this yard to...to...I don't know. There's enough, that's all." He turns to her, raises an eyebrow and stares down into her face. "We don't have to plant any more zucchini, do we?"

The glint in his dark brown eyes makes her heart flutter, something she suspects he realizes. How could he not? She smiles, all innocence and sweetness. The alcohol in the drink is beginning to make her head feel fuzzy. "Well..."

"Well? Zucchini? Oh no, not zucchini! We've got zucchini in the big garden. Zucchini in the greenhouse garden. Zucchini in the cucumber patch. And the last row of the corn patch? What's that?"

"Zucchini."

"Beside the old barn?"

"Zucchini."

"And next to my workshop? In the little garden? You think I didn't know you'd planted anything there, did you? But I saw them today, those little hills on the end. What is that, anyway?"

"Zucchini." She tilts her head, listening for the peepers. It is almost full dark; they should begin their nightly song any minute now.

"And you want to plant more zucchini? What are we going to do with all of them? Tell me that, won't you? What in the Sam Hill are we going to do with a gazillion zucchini?"

"We'll make zucchini and pasta. Fried zucchini. Zucchini cookies--"

"Zucchini cookies?"

"Mmm hmm. You had them yesterday." Nodding, she continues, ticking items off her list with her fingers. "Zucchini bread. Zucchini pancakes. Zucchini cake. Zucchini fritters. Zucchini and rice. Zucchini parmesan. Zucchini rollitini. Zucchini--"

"Stop! Enough with the zucchini!" He drains his glass. It hits the table with a thud just as the peepers begin singing. "The next thing I know you'll be telling me it's in my morning coffee."

"Well..." Holding up her empty glass, she smiles. "Want another daquiri, darling?"