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grumping about men.”
    Gramps reached over to pat Natalie’s arm. “Stop frettin’, honey. Ye’re well rid of that bastard.”
    “She’s not stewing over Robert. It’s Zeke Coulter next door who’s got her dander up today.” Valerie cupped her mug in her hands and took a noisy sip of coffee. “She went over to help Chad do the repairs, and Coulter sent her home.”
    “Why’d he do that?” Natalie’s father asked as he entered the kitchen. “Seems like he’d appreciate the help.”
    Natalie recounted the conversation that she’d had with Zeke Coulter. Just as she finished talking, Rosie joined them at the table. “Little ears,” Natalie said to the adults as she gathered the sleepy child onto her lap.
    Neither Gramps nor Pop took the hint, and a heated debate ensued. Gramps wanted to go over and show Zeke Coulter how the cow ate the cabbage, an old-timer’s way of saying he wanted to kick their neighbor’s ass. Pop vetoed that idea by telling the Chihuahua joke again. Gramps took exception. Before Natalie knew it, the exchange had escalated into an argument.
    “Do you have to do this?” she cried. “Why can’t anyone in this family discuss something without yelling and getting in a fight? You’re upsetting Rosie.”
    Both her father and grandfather fell silent. Then Pop asked, “Are we upsetting you, Rosebud?”
    Rosie lifted her face from Natalie’s bosom. “Nope.”
    Pop nodded. “There, you see? She understands the difference between yelling and merely raising our voices to make a point.”
     
    Getting an honest day’s work out of a resentful kid was more difficult than Zeke had expected. Chad scrubbed half-heartedly at the house, leaving smears of tomato pulp in his wake. At first, Zeke pointed out places the boy had missed. But along toward noon, he decided to just let him go. There was no time like the present for Chad to learn that the hours spent doing a half-ass job wouldn’t count against his debt.
    At twelve sharp, Zeke leaned the rake and pitchfork against the shed and told Chad it was time for lunch. As Chad broke off from work, Zeke suggested that they drive into town and eat at McDonald’s, which brightened the boy’s mood considerably.
    “We need paint, some one-by-fours to fix the door, and I need to order the window glass,” Zeke explained as they walked to the truck. “May as well eat while we’re running errands.”
    En route to Crystal Falls, Chad slumped against the passenger door. To break the silence, Zeke turned on the stereo. His favorite CD, the latest by Garth, began to play, filling the cab with the star’s honeyed voice as he belted out ballads about hopes and dreams realized—and loves of a lifetime lost.
    After a few minutes, Chad said, “You got anything to play besides sappy shit?”
    “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
    Chad rolled his eyes. “Do you kiss your mother with yours? You say ‘shit.’ I heard you.”
    Guilty as charged. Zeke had gotten a blackberry sticker in his hand that morning and let fly with a few choice words, never once stopping to think that the boy was listening. “I’m an adult.”
    “Yeah, like, so what? It’s okay for adults to cuss, but it’s not okay for kids? I don’t get it. My grandpa cusses and so does my dad. Nobody even blinks. Let me say one bad word, and Mom acts like the sky split open to rain snakes.”
    Zeke almost stuck to his guns about his being an adult, but somehow that angle of defense stuck in his craw. The kid was right. If adults set a bad example, no one could really blame a boy for following suit.
    “From now on, if I cuss, you can. If I don’t, you can’t. How’s that for a deal?”
    Chad looked wary. “You’re kidding. Right?”
    “Nope. I’m dead serious.”
    “Yeah, right. If I cuss, you’ll tell my mom.”
    Zeke was determined to clean up his language around the kid, so that wasn’t a worry. “No, I won’t. Do I look like a tattletale?”
    “All adults are