Mind Games

“Why, of course he does, Bray. I can tell you he dotes on sugar cookies. And in that area, Thea’s beat mine, so she’ll give you some to set out for him this year.”

“I’ll do that,” Thea agreed, “but it’s best if you help me make them.”

“I don’t know how to.”

“We’re not big bakers.”

Thea just smiled at Ty. “Then it’s best you both help me. Santa knows when love and fun go into them. Rem and I baked them with my mom, and it was always fun.”

“Where’s your mom?” Bray asked her.

“She’s in heaven.”

“My mom went there, too. But I was a baby and don’t ’member.”

“She remembers you.”

“Okay.” Then he looked down at his plate. “Where’d my cake go?”

Laughing, Ty drilled a finger in his belly, then cut him another small slice.

“Are you going to play that banjo you brought along with you, Lucy?”

“I was hoping you’d ask. I’m betting you’ve got a guitar inside.”

“I’ve got twelve. I can’t seem to stop.”

“Well, you go pick one. I say you and me sit on the porch and make some music while these two clear up the rest of the table.”

While Bunk entertained Bray, Lucy took a chair on the porch, tuned up her banjo. Ty brought out a guitar.

“My goodness, that’s a fine instrument.”

“No matter how many I end up with, when I want acoustic, I reach for the Hummingbird.” He fiddled with the tuning. “You start. I’ll catch up.”

“Since we’re sitting where we’re sitting, we’ll play to that.” Lucy sent him a wink and a smile. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, boy.”

She hit the quick and fast notes of “Foggy Bottom Breakdown,” and had Ty giving a low whistle.

“You don’t fool around.”

But he found the rhythm and the key, and went for it.

“Listen to that,” Thea murmured. “Whoever thought Grammie’d sit on the porch of Miss Leona’s place having a session with Tyler Brennan?”

“They sound damn good. That’s the first I’ve heard about Bray’s mother.”

“I know. Is it harder to remember or not to?” Thea shook her head. “I wouldn’t trade a single memory for anything, but he’s such a happy kid.”

“He’s all that. So, now you know, field’s clear.”

“What field?”

“Don’t be thick.” Rem tapped his knuckles on her head.

“Don’t be stupid,” she shot back. “He’s looking for a friend. Friends.”

“I’m friends with women. Still want some touch.”