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Sloane’s grin widened, carrying more confidence than it had at the reunion. “I did. Finally.”

There was that same pull between us. Less startling this time, but deeper because I knew it was real.

I took the blanket from her before she could object. “How was the drive?”

“Uneventful, which is my preferred category for travel.”

“No warning lights?”

“Only the usual one.”

I looked toward the Civic. “What usual one?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been on long enough that I’ve chosen to ignore it.”

“We should discuss that later.” I led her toward the lawn.

A group of teenagers stood near the pavilion with Mason and Trevor. Trevor had removed the armor hood, though the rest of the neon suit remained in place.

One of the teens was talking when we approached. “They only left the signs for ten minutes.”

Mason shook his head. “They put them in front of the Fletchers’ house.”

“What signs?” I asked.

The teenager glanced at me. “Nothing.”

Trevor answered because he had never respected a failed cover story. “The Kipner twins and Aaron Carpenter made bear-crossing signs.”

Sloane slowed beside me. “Bear-crossing?”

“They stuck them along the road near the Fletcher property,” Mason said. “Then they left picnic baskets by the mailbox.”

Another teenager laughed. “The baskets had fake fish in them.”

I knew the Fletchers. They were a bear-shifter family living a few blocks beyond our property. Their oldest daughter had attended school with Mason, and relations between our families had always been civil.

“Did the Fletchers see them?” I asked.

“They took pictures,” one teenager said. “Mr. Fletcher sent them to Hilary.”

That reduced the humor considerably.

Sloane looked between us. “Is that serious?”

“Not really,” I said. “The kids think bear jokes are funny.”

“They are funny,” Trevor said.

Mason shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. They cleaned it up.”

“After Mom found out,” I said.

The teenagers traded smiles. Kids being kids. Annoying, poorly judged, but not a crisis.

“They’ll apologize,” I said. “It’ll be handled.”

One of the teens looked relieved that I hadn’t turned the conversation into a formal lecture. “See?” he said to Mason. “Not a big deal.”