Mind Games

After all, where he’d send them, they couldn’t take it with them.

* * *

Inside, Cora handed John the watering can. “Do you mind filling this up and putting it back on the porch? I want to go up and change.”

“You sure look good.”

“I do, don’t I? Adele admired my shoes, and like every time I wear it around her, I could feel her envy for my wonderful watch. I’ll tell you about the meeting—all good news—after I change out of these admirable shoes my feet are starting to complain about.”

“You do that. I’ve got mostly good news on the Barnaby project. Or you could stay like that, let me take you out to dinner. Maybe a movie after?”

She paused on the steps, shot a flirty look over her shoulder. “Why, John Fox, are you asking me out on a date?”

“I’d be crazy not to.”

“I absolutely accept, but I’d like to rain check that until tomorrow. I have plans tonight.”

He angled his head, gave her a mock rough-guy look. “What plans?”

“Well, I’ll tell you.” Maintaining the flirty smile, she slipped off her shoes. “The plans include you grilling the steaks I picked up on the way home. Me making my famous twice-baked potatoes.”

“World-renowned.”

“A nice salad with makings from the farmer’s market. Then there’s the bottle of cab you especially like I picked up on my travels.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan. What’s for dessert?”

“I was thinking about the kids, and what a good time they’re having. And here we are, just the two of us in the big, empty house.” She swung the shoes by their straps. “So I thought I should have a lot of crazy sex with my husband.”

“Best dessert ever.”

“Does it beat Mama’s apple stack cake?”

“Even that.”

“Smart answer. Why don’t you open that bottle, and I’ll get the potatoes going when I come down? We can take a nice breather out back before you start the grill.”

“I love you, Cora.”

She kept walking but looked back again. Tapped her watch. “For all time.”

He started back to the kitchen through the wide-open space, and paused at their gallery wall. The family wall, as he thought of it. Pictures of the two of them, then the three, then the four. Of the kids together. Of her mother, her brothers. Group shots, solo shots, they filled the wall.

They made him the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

For all time.

He walked back to open the wine and fill the watering can.

* * *

Ray took the Mercedes to the car wash, and paid to have it detailed inside and out.

Clean as a whistle.

He found a place for a pulled pork sandwich with damn good slaw and fries. He sat outside, enjoying the heat, and while he ate, worked on a drawing of the house.

He figured he could’ve been an architect if he wanted, but why the hell would he want to draw up houses for somebody else to live in?