“What’s funny, Aunt Sookie?” Hunter said.

“Nothing important,” I said. “How about some apple slices and some milk?”

“No ice cream?”

“Well, you had a hamburger and French fries and a Coke at lunch. I think we’d better stick to the apple slices.”

I put The Lion King on while I prepared Hunter’s snack, and he sat on the floor in front of the television while he ate. Hunter got tired of the movie (which of course he’d seen before) about halfway through, and after that, I taught him how to play Candy Land. He won the first time.

As we were working our way through a second game, there was a knock. “Daddy!” Hunter shrieked, and pelted for the door. Before I could stop him, he’d pulled it open. I was glad he’d known who the caller was, because it gave me a bad moment. Remy was standing there in a dress shirt, suit pants, and polished lace-ups. He looked like a different man. He was grinning at Hunter as if he hadn’t seen his child in days. In a second, the boy was up in his arms.

It was heartwarming. They hugged each other tight. I had a little lump in my throat.

In a second, Hunter was telling Remy about Candy Land, and about McDonald’s, and about Claude, and Remy was listening with complete attention. He gave me a quick smile to say he’d greet me in a second, once the torrent of information had slowed down.

“Son, you want to go get all your stuff together? Don’t leave anything,” Remy cautioned his son. With a quick smile in my direction, Hunter dashed off to the back of the house.

“Did it go okay?” Remy asked, the minute Hunter was out of earshot. Though in a sense Hunter was never out of hearing, it would have to do.

“Yes, I think so. He’s been so good,” I said, resolving to keep the kick to myself. “We had a little problem on the McDonald’s playground, but I think it led to a good talk with him.”

Remy looked as if a load had just dropped back onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, and I could have—well, kicked myself.

“No, it was only normal stuff, the kind of thing you brought him here so I could help with,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. My cousin Claude was here, and he played with Hunter at the park, though I was there all the time, of course.” I didn’t want Remy to think I’d farmed Hunter out to any old person. I tried to think of what else to tell the anxious father. “He ate real good, and he slept just fine. Not long enough,” I said, and Remy laughed.

“I know all about that,” he told me.