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“I don’t know shit about art next to Junie,” I say.
“Dex! That’s not true.” She glares at me. “You held your own in every debate about the modern stuff—even if you lost in the end.”
Everybody laughs as Patton nudges my side again.
I bite my tongue, holding in a growl, hating that this is a family gathering and I have to play nice.
“Fine, I don’t know much about painting,” I correct. “With art, I have opinions.”
Fake meet-cute stories aside, those opinions are real. I’ll always value the abstract, maybe because it’s such a welcome break from stark reality.
Mother knows better than to come after my artistic opinions—her cardinals are damn near the only décor in my office that’s not thoroughly modern and transitional—and after another minute of conversation, which feels oddly unforced, we move on.
“Archer and Colt are over there if you two want to say hello.” Mother points to a small table farther along the grassy hill.
“Gladly.” I eyeball Patton hard.
The red summer sun beats down on our heads as we walk with Junie’s arm in mine, hell-bent on stealing everyone’s energy.
“Your mom’s nice,” she says. “I didn’t think she’d welcome me so easily. I’m not… I’m not like the rest of you guys.”
“Looking like you do right now, Sweet Stuff, no one would ever know.”
A blush colors her cheeks, and she looks determined as we approach Archer.
He nods at us both and even gives Junie an almost-smile.
This is Arch at his nicest, though I don’t know how much of it is an apology gesture and how much is because Colt’s sitting right beside him. The boy brings out his humanity more than anything.
“This is Colton,” I say, nodding at the kid. “My nephew.”
“And a sculptor.” Colt smiles up at her with a freckled grin I’m sure will melt her heart. “Are you here with Uncle Dex?”
“I am,” she says carefully, sending me a quick glance before bending over the woodwork items on display. “Did you make all these?”
“Sure did,” he says proudly. I’m not sure kids are ever in the cards for me like Archer, but I don’t think I’d mind if they turned out like Colt has. “Do you want to buy anything? I’ll give you the family rate if you’re with Uncle Dex.”
“Colt, ease off. Stop selling and tell them about your work.” Archer leans back, tucking his hands behind his head and letting little Colt do the talking.
We listen to his little spiel, how he likes to challenge himself and how sculpting helps him blow off steam.
I check out the assorted items on the table. They’re a little rough around the edges, but the kid has more talent in his pinky finger than I ever will for woodwork. They’re mostly simple, everyday things.
A blocky-looking cardinal Mom almost died over.
A giant pencil as big as my hand, painted a dark green.
A saguaro cactus, probably inspired by camping in Arizona with Archer last winter.
“How about this?” I ask, holding up a giant cookie. He’s painstakingly carved in all the chocolate chips.
“Uncle Dex, ifyou’rebuying it,” Colt says with a twinkle in his eye, “that’ll just be fifty bucks.”
Junie bites her lip to stop herself from grinning.
“Fifty?” I toss the cookie and catch it again. “Kid, that’s highway robbery, even if the cost of damn near everything is like a runaway train these days. I’ll give you twenty.”
“Forty.”
