“Have you subbed out the painting yet?” Tom said.

“Nope, and we’re not hiring that swinging dick, that’s for damn sure.” Chick’s hammer echoed off the ridge as he missed a nail. He swore, then drove it in three swings.

For supper Jim barbecued hot dogs and hamburgers out on the grill in the driveway next to his car. Leo had just showered and sat shirtless in a pair of jeans on the kitchen stoop. He held his D harmonica and watched his father turn over the meat patties, leaning back and squinting his eyes at the smoke. The sun was still high over the trees up Saunders Hill, and when the smoke drifted into the pines it showed the twilight in slanted rays, and for some reason it made Leo think of the Civil War, of muskets and cannonballs and torn Confederate flags.

“You seeing your sweetheart tonight?”

Leo shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I bet she likes baseball. She seems like she would. Invite her over to watch the game.”

“Poker?”

Jim shook his head and turned the four hot dogs over. “Change of pace. Lars is bringing over one of his television sets. We’re starting to smell a pennant race, son. Bring her over.”

Leo put the harp to his mouth and sucked out a long bent five-hole note. He fanned his cupped hand for the tremolo, then dropped to the one- and two-holes for some train-chugging back-up. He repeated that twice and lowered the harp. “Is it wrong to give a girl a dozen roses?”

“Hope not. I used to give them to your mother all the time.”

“I read some more of her stuff.”

Jim glanced at Leo, then tapped the spatula on the grill.

“She had a good imagination.”

“Yes she did.”

“You must miss her a lot.”

Jim nodded. “Why’d you ask about the roses?”

“Nothin’.”

Jim turned over two patties. Orange and green flames flared up into the grease drippings of one of them.

“I read this one where she was talking about me being a dead goat and an old leaf.”

“That’s her.” Jim took a tin platter from the hood of his car and flipped the smoking hot dogs onto it. He turned over the burgers again and pressed down on them with the spatula. “Your mother believed when we pass on, we all go back to where we started and live again. That’s why she doesn’t want us wasting our time up at the St. John’s cemetery.”

“Oh.”

Jim glanced at Leo, but only looked as high as his knees before he turned his attention back to the grill and flipped the patties onto the tin.

“You should go out on a date.”

“You think so?” Jim didn’t look up and his voice sounded relaxed and respectful, the way it did around Ryder and his buddies.

“You might have fun.”

“I already did, son. I already did.”