4 Weeks and 2 days." She said, "Your information is close." Something shifted in his expression. It wasn't warmth, but it wasn't contempt either. He looked back at Nathaniel. The grazing agreement. He said, "What about it?" Nathaniel said, "There are men on that committee who have concerns," Franklin said.
"About the grazing," Nathaniel said. "Or about my private life." Franklin was quiet for a moment. Both, he said. At least he was honest. She gave him that.
Well, Nathaniel said, "The grazing agreement is about land and water rights and shared resource management. Those things haven't changed. They're not going to change based on who I choose to spend my time with. He paused. If there are men on that committee who want to vote their opinions about my personal life into a land agreement, I can't stop them.
But they're going to need to look me in the eye and tell me that's what they're doing. And I suspect they're going to find that harder than they think. Franklin looked at him for a long moment. You're your mother's son, he said finally. And it was impossible to tell from his tone whether that was approval or resignation or simply an observation.
He nodded once to Nathaniel and then briefly to Amelia and move away. She breathed. Is it always like this? She said quietly. Like what?
All of it? She said every conversation and negotiation. Every room a campaign. Yes, he said more or less. And you want to bring me into that?
He looked at her. You were already in it, he said. The difference is now you're in it beside me instead of in it alone. She thought about that for the rest of the evening. The celebration continued around them and they stayed for another hour.
And in that hour, Amelia learned something she had not quite anticipated. The room did not explode. The social fabric of Red Willow Creek did not tear cleanly into. What happened was something messier and more human and ultimately more interesting. The room adjusted.