“That part’s my fault. I needed a dark-sky place near the Channel to do some research, so we struck a deal. They let me plant myself there and do my thing, and in return, I do a star party for their guests once a week. And . . .” He leaned forward, as if about to impart some great treasure. “There’s scones.” She laughed and had to keep herself from punching him on the shoulder, a gesture so familiar it had become a part of their shared language. A laugh with a sock. “Scones, you say.”
SCONES
