Jack Matheson was alone in the kitchen.
“Oh. Mr. Matheson. Hello.”
“Bascopolis.”
“I was just getting Wills a beer.”
He opened the fridge and took one out. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. Uh…” I scrambled for a topic of conversation. “That’s a lot of buns.”
The table was loaded down with hot dog and hamburger buns, bottles of ketchup and mustard, a large wooden bowl filled with salad greens.
“I doubt there’ll be any leftover. Once my brother Jake gets here—”
“Oh, Harry and Brynn and their kids are here.”
“Harry’s his youngest son.”
“Wills mentioned them. Something about Harry shooting him in the ass with a nail gun.”
He laughed, in that instance looking so much like Wills it almost took my breath away. “We managed to keep it from Jill for the longest time, and when she finally found out, I don’t know which pissed her off more, that it had happened, or that we hadn’t told her.”
“You’ve got a great family, Mr. Matheson.”