Cooper nodded like that could only be a positive. “Great. Cos she’s on to a good thing with you.”

“You think?”

“Of course, I think. Reckon she should be grateful to have you. Any of these people should be. So, if she winds up giving you shit, you tell me, OK?”

A smile welled in Peter’s chest. “I don’t think you’ll need to take her out to the back of the barn and shoot her, but OK.”

“I’m bein’ serious, Pete. Pa said he never quit on a good job, not never. Only ever bad managers.”

“OK.”

“They gave him all kinds of shit over the years. Making him suffer just cos his readin’ weren’t so good. Lettin’ him go just cos he got fired up a couple of times. The Dead got rid of most things but there’s probably plenty of bad managers left in the world ready to come back again.”

“Yes,” said Peter. “Probably.”

“But I’m proud.”

“Oh yeah?”

Cooper nodded. He kept his head low so the tips of his hair swished across the gravy, and continued to push his food around without saying anything else. But his chest started to rise and fall swiftly beneath his T-shirt like he was working up to something, and a little while later, he lowered his fork.

“So, it was worth it, then?” he said. “Comin’ back?”

Peter sat back in his chair. “Yeah.” Then, “It’ll only be worth it if you’re happy too.”

Cooper shrugged. “Reckon I’ll be happy if you’re happy.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“But—”

“But what?”

“But I can get on with things as long as I know you’re OK.”

“But I don’t want you to just be getting on with things,” said Peter. “You have to be happy, too.”

“Well, I don’t know ’bout that.”

“Well, I do.”

“Pa said that the most you could hope for back then was to just get by.”

Peter smiled. He could only imagine how difficult Bud would’ve been to manage. But he didn’t have the heart to say it. They continued eating and the snow continued to fall when the nick on Peter’s neck began stinging.

“Anyway,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know,” said Cooper.

“No. I don’t. Tell me.”

“It was good.”

“Oh yeah?”

Cooper shovelled a forkful into his mouth. “Uh-huh.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I stacked stuff.”

“Right. And?”

“I stacked stuff, Pete. What more do you want me to say about it?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Well, there you go, then.”

“What kind of things did you stack?”

“Tins.”

“OK. And?”

“And I stacked tins.”

Cooper mopped gravy up with the last of the brown wedges and shoved it in like there was nothing more to say about the day.

“So, nothing’s wrong, then?”