“He always told Mike,” Kelly reported, “that he wrote an amazing paper and you disagreed with his opinions about Faulkner’sLight inAugust.”
“I was grading based on opinions, was I? There’s a first,” Art said. “Well, if he happens to bring it up again, perhaps I can remind him that he got a D because he failed to turn in his paper on time…or within the three-day extension I gave him on it. He might have left that part out of thestory?”
Kelly clapped her hands together as she tossed her head back for a moment to delight in her nephew’s childhood fib. “Now that sounds a little more believable. I’ll have to give him some grief about that at our next family get-together.”
“Sneaky little fella,” Wesmused.
* * *
Two porch lightshung on either side of the French doors leading out onto Wes’sbalcony.
Though Wes had lighted three citronella candles on the glass top of the console table before them, the little bloodsuckers were still giving Art hell. Wes fetched insect repellant for them, which they applied diligently as he and Art made themselves comfy on the sofa and Kelly settled in the adjacentchaise.
“I love the way you overlook that fountain back there,” Kelly said as she studied thesurroundings.
Wes had a view of a beautifully decorated garden area with walkways and the fountain Kelly was referring to. Water jetted out from the middle of the pond and cascaded back into it, shimmering in a blue glow from the nearby lights illuminating theplace.
“Yes, they’ve spent a lot of time and money beautifying the place over the years,” Art noted. “Everything was grass and dirt when I first movedhere.”
“They have personal gardens on the other side, near the apartments,” Wes added, “and Art has sort of a part-time job tending to them for several of the residents who are less inclined to work inthem.”
“Does that mean he handles yours?” she asked Wes, her voice filled withsarcasm.
“Hey, now. I’m actually not doing too bad, am I,Art?”
“It’s true. Your dad has more of a green thumb than he’d care to admit. He’s got some fine tomatoes coming in.” He’d just started, but Art figured he deserved some credit for keeping on top of his plot, even though he hoped at least part of the reason was to spend more time withhim.
“My dad, gardening. I never would have imagined. Water polo, Zumba, and now gardening.” Art could tell she genuinely appreciated knowing how active Wes was being, and he was sure it surprised her as well, considering it was unlikely Wes would have found so many opportunities elsewhere. “I just hope you can afford to make some time for your family when we decide to have Thanksgiving. Or maybe get out to Washington to visit Aunt Connie and Uncle Pearce. I spoke with them before I came here, and did you know the last time they saw you was right after you were in thehospital?”
“They can just as easily come here, and they’re always expecting me to be the one to make the trip,” Wes said, as though they were in a bit of astandoff.
She jerked in the chaise, her eyes opening wider as though she just remembered something important. “Oh, Ralph and Morgan sent me pictures the other day from their tour in Peru.” She retrieved her phone, explaining to Art, “Ralph’s my cousin and Morgan’s hiswife.”
“Oh, pictures?” Wes asked. “I’d love to seethem.”
She hopped up from her chair and hurried to him, showing her phone to Wes, who shared the pictures with Arttoo.
“Art, I don’t even think I asked, but do you have anykids?”
“No, I never had kids. Most of the family I was close to has well passed on. I still have a niece inWinebourne.”
“I’msorry.”
“It’s been long enough that I’ve made peace with it. It was just my ma and my sister and brothers. I had a significant age gap from my siblings, so they passed at their time, and I had no interest in kids and never had any partners I keep upwith.”
Art turned and saw something in Wes’s expression he couldn’t quite read, as though he was trying to figure something out from the answer he’d provided, but then Wes returned his attention to the phone and said, “Ah, this is a nice one of them at MachuPicchu.”
They continued their conversation, covering the sort of topics Art had become an expert in over his lengthy life of navigating various social events. Kelly finally headed off, returning to Justin’s place for the night with plans to take Heather and Karl to Six Flags the next day, then come back the day after that to spend some more time with herfather.
Wes and Art headed down the driveway of Wes’s townhouse, walking through the incandescent orange light coming from the streetlamps illuminating thestreet.
“Interesting that when Kelly asked about kids, you said ‘no interest,’” Wes noted. “That’s not what you said on ourwalk.”
“Funny how your memory is so sharp about that, when your recollection of that day in the park is a littlemessy.”
“Which is it?” As intrusive as the question felt, Wes wasn’t prying or accusatory. He seemed curious, something he and Kelly apparently had incommon.
“This sounds like a conversation to have over a nightcap,” Art said, and he and Wes returned to Wes’splace.
