“He is.” And the man had gotten better looking as he got older. “He’s ski patrol up at the mountain and a river guide in the summer, or at least he was, last I heard.”
“Athletic too. I better keep my eye on you.” Connor teased.
“They have buttermilk waffles and blueberry waffles and peanut butter waffles and chocolate chip waffles and banana waffles and apple waffles…”
“Blueberry! No, chocolate chip! No…”
“Boys. Behave. Think about what you want.” Quietly. “If you want to get a couple kinds to share, you can.”
The boys started conspiring softly.
“What are you having, honey?” Connor asked. “I’m actually pretty hungry too. I’m thinking about a burger. Or fried chicken.”
“I want the jalapeno sticks and an order of the potato skins.” Bacon and cheese and ranch—win, win, win.
“Ooh. Good call. I’m going to have the chicken. And a bite of yours. And a beer.” Connor closed his menu. “Boys?”
“Blueberry and chocolate chip,” they said at the same time.
“Sounds great.”
“And a beer,” Jayden added, giggling.
“Root beer it is!” He winked over at his root-beer-loving boy.
“Me too, Daddy?” Jaxson asked, then whispered low. “But white?”
“White beer it is.” So two Fat Tires, a root beer, and a Sprite.
“I am told you’re a VIP.” Their waitress stepped up the table and smiled at Early. “I’m Lucy.”
“Hey, Lucy. I’m Rick Jericho’s nephew. We’re celebrating his life today.”
“There was a horse with his boots on it. Papawcried.” Jaxson’s eyes went wide.
Lucy nodded at Jaxson. “That’s a powerful message, right? It’s good to cry when you’re sad; it gets all the feelings out.” She turned back to him. “I’m sorry for your loss. We all knew Rick well. He was one of the best ones.”
“He was, thank you.” He stood and shook her hand, then sat and ordered their drinks.
“Did everybody know Uncle Rick?” Jayden asked.
“Lots of folks did, yeah. Durango is a little town, and our family’s been here a long time.” Four generations they had been on the ranch. It was theirs.
“Does she know we want waffles?”
“She will. She’s getting ourbeersfirst.” Connor winked at him, approving.
“Oh. Cool. Cool. So…is Uncle Rick still in that box? I mean, is he going to rot?”
Early tried not to wince at the question, but he wasn’t going to not answer. “His body is in the coffin, yes. But his soul isn’t there. The part of him that was real and special and loving—that’s not in there. I think Uncle Rick’s soul is in heaven.”
“They’ll bury his body in a nice spot where people can visit and read his headstone to remember him.”
“So Papaw can visit if he wants to.”
“Yes, exactly.”
The drinks arrived, which was good timing. “What are we eating, folks?”