If the brush-off bothered him, he didn’t show it.

Thanks to Nisa, Aslan had a lot of practice listening more than he looked. Every muscle ached to turn, to take in every detail between Nettie and Malachi’s quiet conversation, but instead he imagined Nisa’s rope.

He listened in as Nettie folded as readily as a card table. Right. If she was as effective as he was hoping, would Malachi be on such a precarious edge? Were there times it wasn’t like this, and how did she coax him back?

They lowered their voices, and Aslan kept his focus on his careful facade. Didn’t matter. (What were they saying?) Didn’t involve him. (He knew the church kitchen was stocked…)

“As you wish,” he said, pleasantly, agreeably.

Nothing crossed his face when she invited them over; a bland, marble statue in the face of all weather.

“That won’t work,” he contradicted, in that same practiced, calm tone. “I’m sorry, I forgot to mention – I have a contractor coming over next week.”

Her not-so-quiet comments on his roughness, however, he left unchallenged.

More chaperons had begun to arrive, and the divide between men and women in the room was becoming more pronounced. As Nisa had a few words with another unfamiliar woman … Aslan decided to do the proper thing and filter onto the ‘men’s side of the room.

Right next to Malachi. What a coincidence.

“Come on,” he urged nonchalantly, eyes still on Nisa. “You sound parched, Father. I insist.”