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Writer's pictureljellis57

Perceptions and Assumptions

Updated: May 15, 2023


San Joaquin Valley, California


Perceptions. I try to be aware of how I perceive people and how they perceive me.

Assumptions. I try to avoid making them until I have all the facts.

Sometimes I fail miserably at both.

~ S.


Finished dressing for the day, Scott sat on the bed to pull on his boots when the door abruptly opened and in blew Teresa.


“Scott!”


“Teresa, can you explain to me why Murdoch spent money having doors installed? Right now, it seems like it was a waste of finances.”


Taking the hint, Teresa knocked on the open bedroom door.


“Who is it?”


“Scott, this is important.”


“Of course.” setting down the boots, the discussion continued. “You have my undivided attention.”


“What’s wrong with Kinsey?”


“Teresa, I’ve been trying to figure that out since she set foot on the ranch. I’ve made little progress.” Picking up his boots, “Now, if you will excuse me.”


“Scott!”


Sighing, Scott set the boots back down and with a sweeping extended arm, signaled Teresa to inform.


“Kinsey has no desire to attend the Town Hall Dance next week. I said it was the biggest event of the summer. Scott, she needs to go! She has very little social life, in my opinion. She spends too much time on her own. I kept asking what was the problem and she finally told me to….” Teresa hesitated.

Scott raised his eyebrows. “What did she tell you to do?”


“Bugger off.”


Hiding his smile with a stern look, Scott assured Teresa he would speak with Kinsey and an apology was definitely in order. Watching her turn to leave, Scott posed one more question.


“Little Miss Matchmaker, which one of your girlfriends’ brothers wants to meet Kinsey?”


“Sarah’s brother, William.”


Scott made his rounds looking for Kinsey, skipping the horse stable due to the disobedient wander’s one-month grounding.


Eventually arriving at the garden, he spied his cousin’s face under streaks of dirt. No matter what Kinsey was involved with, dirt, flour, paint, most of it would end up on her. No wonder Mr. and Mrs. Furlong, who always insisted on a picture perfect daughter, never let her touch anything.


Scott leaned on the fence waiting to be acknowledged.


“I know you know I’m here and I’m fairly certain you know why.”


Kinsey continued to pick beans and toss them in a basket. Scott entered the garden and squatting opposite his cousin, assisted with the picking.


“I owe Teresa an apology.”


“You do.”


“I broke Rule Number Two.”


“You did.”


“You’re no doubt upset I lost my temper.”


“Well, it is Rule Number Three.”


Kinsey sat back cross-legged holding the bean basket. “Will you be informing Murdoch of my recent fall from grace…again?”


Scott assumed a similar position on the other side of the bean row.

“I haven’t decided. It depends on how the rest of this conversation goes. I do know Teresa can be very persistent when she gets an idea in her head so that will be working in your favor.”


Scott reached out, snagged a few beans and tossed them towards the basket but instead, bounced them off Kinsey’s nose. He continued before his target could respond.


“Why don’t you want to attend the dance next week?”


“I just don’t want to go.”


“You were a social butterfly in Melbourne. So, what’s the problem with this dance?”


Silence.


“Fine. You and I need to make a trip out to the water pump and find that cake of soap. Then we’ll go talk to Murdoch.”


“I have nothing to wear.”


“You’re kidding!” It took a moment or two for Scott to get his laughter under control. “Your wardrobe could clothe Green River’s entire female population. Nice try. Let’s go.”


“I don’t know how to dance.”


Scott didn’t laugh this time due to the serious expression on Kinsey’s face.


“I’m a klutz. My mother said so and it’s true. I have two left feet.”


Scott sighed. Eleanor Furlong strikes again. “This is not a problem. I will teach you how to dance.”


“You? Teach me? How to dance?”


Mimicking his cousin, “Yes, me. Teach you. How to dance.”


Kinsey skeptical expression puzzled Scott. “What is it? You think I’m incapable of teaching my younger cousin how to dance?”


“Well, Scott...you are…you know…old. I mean, old-ER.”


“Too old to dance? Old. What did I tell you about using inappropriate language? Go get cleaned up, apologize to Teresa, and that apology better be sincere, then meet me in the Great Room in one hour.”


Reluctantly, Kinsey picked up the basket of beans and headed out the garden gate.


“Old?”

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