“You must be crazy,” said Fedora.

“The Lord looks out for children and fools.”

The man dug into his pocket and slipped out two nickels, grumbling beneath his breath. He slapped the coins into Paul’s hand.

Paul bit one of the nickels, just for show, then tucked the coins into his shirt. He handed the man a Coca-Cola bottle filled with red sauce and one penny in change. Paul lifted his hat. “Don’t eat it all at once, now. The good Lord frowns on gluttons.”

The man sneered, then crawled into a yellow car and drove away.

“How do you like that?” said Paul to Pete, who leaned against the side of the truck. “We go to the trouble of making the world’s best sauce, and they got the gall to gripe about it?”

But Pete wasn’t interested in barbecue. “Please take us with you,” the boy said.

Paul was getting tired of talking about this. The more he talked about it, the worse he felt about himself. “We’ve already talked about this, Tex. Don’t make me feel any uglier than I already feel.”

Paul placed a handful of coins into a wood box. He tried not to look at the kid’s big, sad eyes. They made him feel guilty.

“Please,” said the boy. “I’m a hard worker.”

Paul lit a cigarette and greeted the next man in line, who wore suspenders and a bow tie. Bow Tie said, “I’ll take a pound, please.”

Paul started to wrap some pork in newsprint. But the kid stepped between Paul and the stack of newspapers. “Here,” said Pete. “Let me do it.”

Paul took one step backward and watched the kid wrap the pork. It made him feel like a pathetic human being. He didn’t want to leave this family on the side of the road, of course, but he couldn’t support them either. He had a hard enough time finding work as it was.

Paul forced out a breath of smoke. “Tex, it ain’t nothing personal, but folks gotta pay to breathe in this world, and I’m still holding my breath.”

“We’re worse off than you are,” said Pete.

“That ain’t the point,” Paul said. “Your chances won’t improve none with us.”

The conversation was interrupted by a baby crying. Vern was holding her. He leaned against a tree, listening to the radio blaring from the open door of the truck. The sound of trumpets and trombones cut through the air. Vern opened a candy bar wrapper using only his teeth.

“Don’t you do anything besides eat candy and listen to the radio?” hollered Paul.

“Who, me?” said Vern.

“No, your brother,” said Paul. “Yes, you.”

“I cook it, you sell it,” said Vern. “That was the deal.”