“Pop and Brick were playing tic-tac-toe, and we were all enjoying some macaroni and cheese, and I was telling them about how my friend Tammy Kim likes to eat it with ketchup, and they didn’t believe me. So I was going to have them try it, and then Spencer came in, and I guess I just lost my grip on the bottle—”

“Pop and Brick were playing tic-tac-toe?” Gram interrupted.

“And eating,” Brick added.

His grandmother nearly went misty-eyed on them as she crossed the kitchen to put her hands on her husband’s thin shoulders. She took in the bowls, the paper and marker, and dropped a kiss on the top of Pop’s bald head.

“Hair looks…nice.” Pop formed the words slowly.

“You old charmer,” Gram whispered.

Brick felt like he was intruding on a private moment and itched to give them their space. Remi must have had the same notion because she nodded her head toward the hallway.

“I’ll help you take the trash out, Brick,” she announced brightly.

She waited while he hefted the bag from the bin, then led the way to the back of the house. She held the door for him, and together they stepped out onto the back patio.

“I’ve never seen someone do that much good by telling that many lies,” he told her when they were out of earshot.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said cheerfully, plucking the metal lid off the trash can. He dropped the bag inside. “Teamwork makes the dream work,” she said, closing the lid and wiping her hands on the back of her shorts.

“Thanks for that in there,” he began. “All of it. Gram’s been worried about him.”

“I hardly did a thing,” she insisted. “Sometimes folks just need to remember there’s a whole lot of life left to live.”

He dipped his head and glanced down at his feet. “Well, thank you for reminding him.”

“Think Spence will forgive me for those damn shorts?” she asked, not sounding like it bothered her a bit.

“Eventually. Probably.”

“I guess I’d better get back home. I have to write an essay I told my dad I finished Friday.”

Not for the first time, he found himself at a loss for words around her. Remington Ford was a handful of trouble and sunshine.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” he said.

She wandered into the backyard toward the gate in the fence. “You know, if you enclosed this whole porch thing, it might be a nice big living space for Pop,” she mused.

He grunted.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots of each other. Bye!”

He said nothing as he watched her stroll around the side of the house and let herself out through the gate.

7

Despite the ever-changing outside world with its dark deeds and charming monsters, Mackinac remained solidly, stalwartly the same. There was still a chair for her at her parents’ table. Still a jar of butterscotch candies on the counter. And her father still didn’t want her getting in his way in the kitchen.