Karen looked around.
Family photographs covered the walls.
Graduation pictures.
Birthday pictures.
A photograph of Marcus and Tasha on their wedding day.
Pictures of Jordan and Mia at different ages.
Karen stared at them.
"I didn't see any of this."
Marcus nodded.
"You didn't look."
Karen accepted the words.
"No."
She took a breath.
"I want to know you."
Marcus considered that.
"That's a good place to start."
Two weeks later, Saturday returned.
The weather was almost identical.
Blue sky.
Warm air.
Cicadas.
Green lawns.
This time, Marcus stood beside the grill wearing the same red oven mitts.
Tasha looked at him.
"You really kept those?"
"They're lucky."
"They're ridiculous."
"Both can be true."
Jordan ran through the yard.
Mia chased him.
A few neighbors arrived.
Then more.
Someone brought chairs.
Someone brought lemonade.
Samuel brought his camera.
And Karen arrived carrying another peach cobbler.
Marcus looked at her.
"You're becoming dangerous."
Karen laughed.
"Apparently I've learned that desserts are less dangerous than assumptions."
The group laughed.
The tension that had once existed between them wasn't completely gone.
But it was different.
It had become something they could talk about.
That mattered.
At one point, Karen stood beside Tasha near the picnic table.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why didn't you tell me how angry you were?"
Tasha looked toward the children.
"I was angry."
"I know."
"But I didn't want my children to see us turn the neighborhood into another battlefield."
Karen nodded.
"Thank you."
Tasha looked at her.
"Don't thank me yet."
Karen raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"You still owe us the recipe for that cobbler."
Karen laughed.
"Deal."
Across the yard, Marcus shouted:
"Nobody touch the burgers!"
Jordan yelled back:
"Dad, they're burning!"
"They are not!"
Tasha shook her head.
Some things, apparently, hadn't changed.
The incident might have ended there.
But Marcus didn't want it to become just another story people told.