The next day, all the female residents of the Apthorp were in the library when Audrey looked up from her electronic book reader and said, “We need some music.”

Mackenzie, rewriting the outline for one of her term papers, put down her fountain pen, pulled a music player out of her backpack, and attached it to the dock of the library’s sound system. Sarah Vaughn’s voice drifted through the room: “I’ll know, when my love comes along…”

“Hey,” said Isabella, stretched out on the couch reading a romance novel, “I can’t believe you like that song.”

“It’s my favorite,” said Mackenzie.

“Huh. So, do you know?” asked Isabella.

“No.”

Isabella spoke to the room at large. “It’s probably Anthony. I mean, the two of them were rolling around on the lawn. In the middle of the day, to boot.”

“It’s not.”

Emily, at the library desk writing an email on her laptop, said, “I think it would be romantic. I mean, to be swept off your feet by someone.”

“Does that ever happen?” asked Katherine. She was paging through the Coastal College catalogue, looking for for an alternative to social work. “It seems unlikely to me.”

“If Anthony tried to sweep Mackenzie off her feet,” said Isabella, “she’d just floor him.”

“Very funny,” said Mackenzie, amid laughter from the others.

Anthony appeared in the doorway, and all the women looked at him. “What?” he said. “What? Should I leave?”

“No, come on in,” said Isabella. “I’m sure you’re tired after a grueling day of apartment managing.”

“I am tired. Did you know there’s poison oak on the hill?”

“Duh.”

Anthony sat down. “Nice music,” he said. Sarah Vaughn was still singing. “That would be great, wouldn’t it? To just know? I mean, no uncertainty, no problems.”

“Geez,” said Isabella. “Are you even a guy?”

“A relationship has to be earned,” said Mackenzie, “if it is to last.”

“Is that the voice of experience?” Isabella looked at Audrey. “You know of any Mackenzie relationships?”

“Not really. No.”

“Stability’s the most important thing,” said Katherine. “If a man didn’t offer stability, I wouldn’t be interested.”

“Hoo, boy,” said Isabella. “Sounds boring. What about sex? That’s the first thing. Good sex.”

Anthony looked uncomfortable. “Maybe I should go.”

“Wait a minute,” said Isabella. “Don’t you agree? Isn’t sex the most important thing?”

Anthony shifted in his chair. “Um… No comment.”

But the women were looking at him expectantly, and Audrey said, “No, really. What do you think? Sometimes it seems like guys want sex first, last, and always.”

Emily giggled. “He doesn’t want to say.”

“Not very brave,” said Mackenzie.

“Hmm,” said Isabella. “Maybe it’s because he has the hots for someone here.” She looked significantly from Anthony to Mackenzie.

“That’s not...” said Anthony. “I mean, well, any man would…” Blushing furiously, he got up and left the room. Laughter followed him up the stairs.

Later, Isabella found Mackenzie in the kitchen, cutting up chicken for dinner. “So, really,” she said, “don’t you think Anthony’s cute?”

Mackenzie pushed the pile of cubed chicken aside, put down her knife, and turned on Isabella. “You’ve been teasing me about this long enough.”

“But inquiring minds want to know.”

“Do inquiring minds want to sustain personal damage?”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Isabella held her hands up in front of her. “Was that a threat? Aren’t we all friends here?”

“It was. And we are.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad we’re clear on that. And just so you know, I agree with you completely. Enough’s enough, and nothing’s funny forever.” Isabella paused. “I thought this one was good for a little while longer, though.”

“Isabella.”

“You’re right, of course. No more.”

“Thank you.”

“But I can keep it up with Anthony, can’t I?”

“No. Hard as it is to believe, he’s trying.” Mackenzie picked up her knife and turned back to the chicken. “Leave him alone.”

“Ooooh. So you DO …”

Mackenzie casually flipped the knife into the air. It spun in a complicated arabesque, the blade flashing light. When the handle landed back in her hand, she resumed work. “You were saying?”

“Oops. Forgot for a minute, there.”

Anthony looked into the room. When he saw Mackenzie and Isabella, he hesitated, but Isabella asked, “What’s that you’re reading?”

Anthony held up the book. “It’s a manga called Love Hina.”

“You read comics?” said Isabella.

“There’s something familiar about this one,” said Anthony, “and I like the way everything turns out all right. Doesn’t always happen in real life, I guess.”

“I’d rather read something worthwhile, instead of a cartoon book,” said Mackenzie.

Anthony sat down at the kitchen table. “You mean something realistic and difficult? Life has enough troubles. I don’t need to read about more.”

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” said Isabella, grabbing a cookie on her way out the door.

After a moment, Anthony said, “Sorry about the stuff in the library.”

“Why would you apologize about that?” said Mackenzie, using a fork to mix a marinade.

“You’re right, that’s not what I came in here to say. I meant the thing with the hose. I’m sorry.”

“I haven’t thought about it. Neither should you.”

“Hey, I’m apologizing here. Do we have to disagree about that?”

“Disagreement bothers you?” said Mackenzie.

“Constant disagreement bothers me.”

“Conflict is a natural part of life.”

“Oh, sure,” said Anthony. “Tooth and claw, and all that. But we see each other almost every day. We could be civil.”

“I try to be consistent in my thoughts and actions. If conflict results, so be it.” Mackenzie poured the marinade over the chicken.

“Come on. I’m talking about casual conversation, not pitched battle.”

“Casual contact should be rooted in convictions, should it not?”

“What did the guy say? ‘Can’t we all just get along?’”

“A weak point of view. Don’t you have any convictions?”

“That’s pretty harsh. It makes me wonder how to talk to you.”

“Then don’t.” Mackenzie covered the bowl of chicken and put it in the refrigerator.

“Convictions, huh? Let’s see. I’d say, do your best and then take responsibility for it. If you screw up, try again. Respect other people and think the best of them.” Anthony looked up at Mackenzie. “If they’ll let you.”

“So being competent isn’t part of it?”

“If you do the best you can, you’ll be as competent as you can be.”

“And excellence?”

Anthony thought about it. Then he spoke slowly. “You know, I’m not sure. I guess I think it’s up to other people to judge the excellence of what you do, and I’m sorry to say I haven’t earned many ‘way to goes’ for excellence. Do you judge yourself? In martial arts, say?”

“I practice in the moment. When the moment’s done, so’s my practice.”

“So you do the best you can at any given moment.”

“Yes.”

“Amazing. We agree on something.”