“Mama! You want your flats or heels? They have a sitting room,” Charlotte called.

“This is a funeral, girl! Honoring a man, not a night at the diner. Shine up the heels!” Mackenzie’s maternal grandmother, Mee-maw, called back.

Mackenzie was laying on her bed, spread out, staring at her ceiling. She was wearing a towel around her body, her hair dry and braided. Her funeral dress hung off her closet door, her shoes ready in a neat box. She took a deep breath through her nose and rolled onto her side.

She held up her right hand and looked at her empty palm. The flesh looked as normal as the day her grandfather died, no sign of the brand that once marked her. She remembered the five voices telling her it was her choice.

And they knew her answer.

“Mackenzie!” Charlotte yelled while moving past her door, “Where the hell is that damn cat? You got his carrier ready?”

“He’s in the bathroom, mama,” she answered, “And yes ma’am, I do. It’s by the backdoor.”

“What is he doing in the-Oh my god! Paul! When did the cat learn to use the toilet?!”

“Dad taught all his cats to do that,” Paul said with a laugh from the office at the opposite end of the hall.

“Get out and to your carrier!” She said adding ‘psst, psst’ and snapping her fingers. She heard a grunt of disgust from her mouth followed by the toilet flushing.

Macaroon passed by the slightly open door to Mackenzie’s room and gazed in. They locked eyes before he meowed and headed down the stairs.

“Okay, you’ll have to watch him for a few,” Charlotte stopped as she entered Mackenzie’s room fully. “Mackenzie Sherise Nichols! You are still half naked!” she screeched.

“I already showered, mama. I was just-”

“Mackenzie, my beloved first born daughter,” Charlotte said approaching her slowly and softly placing her hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder. “We leave for the new funeral home in thirty minutes. If you are not in that dress, in those shoes, and with at least something around here,” she swirled a finger around Mackenzie’s eyes and lips, “I am going to-”

“Charlotte,” the crackly voice of Mee-maw interrupted, “Shut. Up!” she put emphasis and power in the words, moving into the room.

Both Nichols women stared, Mackenzie glancing to her mother with wide eyes, and Charlotte holding back a curl in her lip. Mee-maw walked to Mackenzie’s dresser and grabbed some underwear, she muttered ‘goddamn’ softly under her breath when she picked a bra for Mackenzie. Moving with purpose she snatched up the shoes and craned her skinny arms to get the dress, tossing it over Mackenzie’s bed. She set the underwear on the edge and put her hands on her hips.

“Git out,” she ordered.

“Mama, this is not the day-” Charlotte began.

Mee-maw swung her cane and cracked Charlotte across her backside, “Git out! Handle your white man! He’s still fiddling with his sleeves like a boy! I’ll handle the baby! Go!” Mee-maw punctuated each sentence with a swat.

Mackenzie bit her lower lip to keep from laughing as Charlotte kicked at the older woman’s cane. Arguing and spitting poison the two women ranted at each other for the few steps to the door. Mee-maw pushed Charlotte out and then slammed it shut snorting and clapping her hands clean.

“It’s your granddaddy Sloan’s fault,” Mee-maw said as she walked to Mackenzie’s dresser and started checking her make up, “Love that man. Love him, but until the day he died his baby girl could do no wrong. Now look at her, spitting and kicking her mama!”

Mee-maw, or Teritha Landry, was in her sixties. She had worked most of her life, as soon as she could walk or pick up a pan, and it had bowed and worn her down. Despite being Charlotte’s height, she stooped, and her knees were bent, shaking slightly as she walked. Her arms and legs had thinned as her daily routine was lessened after her youngest, Charlotte, left home.

She had sharp dark eyes that peered from under perfectly manicured eyebrows, done by her daughter-in-law. She was wearing a simple black sleeveless dress with a short coat for her arms. Her skirt was long and tasteful, and barely showed off her stockinged feet. Her hair thinned and she had finally shaved it off during her short and fierce battle with cancer when Mackenzie was ten. Now she wore wigs, this one being a tall older office lady style from the fifties.

With a practiced grace she picked a color of lipstick that accentuated Mackenzie’s natural color. Mackenzie had put on her bra and slipped into the panties by the time Teritha stepped up to her. She beckoned Mackenzie to sit up and when she did, she began to apply it.

“Haven’t had much time, you and me, since I came,” Teritha said as she moved Mackenzie’s chin to check her face, “You ain’t been sleeping too good, baby.”

“No, mee-maw,” Mackenzie said. The woman may be mean, but she was also keen. No sense lying to her, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Papa.”

“I understand. Dallas’ boy was real close to Sloan. He didn’t even go to the viewing or the service,” she said as she used a tissue from a fresh box to test the lipstick’s edge. “Bit soft if you ask me. I blame his mama. Woman trying to grow flowers more than raise a children.”

“He probably didn’t want to embarrass himself or the family,” Mackenzie offered, trying not to roll her eyes.

“Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about. Crying for family,” she said as she handed Mackenzie her stockings. “Roll em up, baby don’t slip in you’ll get a run.”

“Yes, mee-maw,” Mackenzie said as she rolled up the first leg.

“Mackenzie, baby, you,” Teritha began, drumming her fingers on her cane, “You still like rocks?”

“Geodes, mee-maw. I like anything with geography or rare minerals,” Mackenzie corrected as she got her other leg into the stockings. She stood and checked them. Teritha grabbed the top and made sure they were snug before testing her legs. “Thank you.”

“Well. You know. Dallas has that new job at the university in Philly. They got a good science department there. When you seen them last? Your uncle and auntie?” she asked stepping back as Mackenzie put on her top, a black button-down blouse.

“At fourth of July, Mee-maw. We were all at that block party their friend had,” Mackenzie said, almost off hand.

“Maybe we could take a look. He said them professors are really nice. Maybe one could help you get in there? You gonna need to look for college. Soon,” Teritha trailed off as she watched Mackenzie get ready.

Her eyes softened and she cupped Mackenzie’s face causing her to stop.

“God damn. Sloan said I could turn heads in a potato sack when I was your age,” she mused, “But I don’t hold a candle to you, baby.”

Mackenzie blushed, “Thank you, Mee-maw,” she said, fiddling with the zipper for her skirt. Teritha hooked her cane on her arm and helped her, shooing away her hands.

“I never liked Paul. Too soft for me. Sloan was a miner, you know.” Mackenzie nodded, “Then he and his boys opened that trucking business after Mr. Hutchins at the Union got tired of black boys doing his job. Took care of us. Those trucks. I saw Paul and I saw this Yankee white boy. Staring just as goofy at my baby girl as any of the ones from the roadhouse.”

She took a step back from Mackenzie and sighed, “And I let him know. Sloan was always nice to him, never be nice to suitors. Women or men. Give em the cane, make em work for it. Lord knows Charlotte never did. And yet despite all my poison there I was twenty years ago. Sitting in that fancy smoking room.”

Mackenzie had sat down. She looked at her grandmother and was slowly drawn into her words. Mee-maw loved to speak about how unfit Paul was for Charlotte, she mostly did it to ‘joke around’, but it was more generic or just bashing on him being white or not understanding them. There was openness in how she was talking, a vulnerability Mackenzie didn’t know the older woman had.

“Me and Sloan agreed we weren’t gonna be some bumkins from the Parish, tossing our baby to the richest family that asked. We got dressed up smart. Had the wash do up the car nice. Lord, that’s the day Sloan finally shaved off that damn scrub for the first time in thirty years,” she rubbed her own face in memory. “You shoulda heard us on the drive up. You want this wedding, white man. It’s not right. It’s not legal. It was. Loving v. Virginia solved that. We almost had a damn tailgate party in the street just outside that old house. I’m surprised someone didn’t come to round us up we were being so onery.”

She grinned, a small one, “And then he opened the door and saw us, and his face lit up. Like he was seeing old friends for the first time in years.”

Her smile fell and she looked at Mackenzie. She walked to her and cupped her face again. For a brief moment there was intense emotion on Teritha’s face. Mackenzie had never seen it. Mee-maw had a stern look most of the time, sometimes replaced by a giddy mischievous grin or cackle. This was far different; it was like she was fighting love and hared in equal measure.

But it was only a flash, and it was gone.

“Freddie was a good man,” she finally said causing Mackenzie’s eyes to widen. The only white man Mee-maw had said that about had been President Kennedy. “Without him I doubt Paul woulda been able to snag Charlotte for longer than what ten dollars gets you at the drug store nowadays,” she snorted, “You got some of the best of us in you, Mackenzie, all of us. But my opinion ain’t squat, and neither is yours. A real measure of a man is how he is remembered, and who remembers him. Today, you gonna see that.”

She kissed Mackenzie on the forehead and walked to the door. With a great sigh she scratched at her wig. With a soft sucking sound, she pulled it off and flipped it in her hands. Snorting and then drawing in breath, she opened the door.

“Charlotte! That taxi man you hired rolled my good wig. Get my hat wig!”

“Mama! Goddamn we have to go! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!”

“Do not take that language to me, girl! Get my hat wig! And the hat with it!”

Mackenzie watched the two older women bicker and fight. She watched as Charlotte raved throwing her hands up and releasing a frustrated grunt. But she also saw the smile her mother had.

Looking down at her palm again, Mackenzie put her palms together and tried to steady her breathing. It was Sunday, August twenty-third. She only had one more day.

<><><>

“So,” Martin called to Macaroon, adjusting Mackenzie, “Not to put pressure on you, but how in the fuck are we gonna fix this?” he gestured to the building. “You gonna use that barrier thing?”

The cat shook his head, putting the handset down, “No. The barrier reverses damage done while it’s up, not damage that’s already there. It’s one of the restrictions of Concrete Jungle.”

“You healed me,” Mackenzie said weakly, her head resting on Martin’s lap.

“Healing is not repairing. My barrier can’t make manmade structures safer. I can explain the ins and outs, but it’s complicated,” Macaroon explained, “Plus we only have to wait until the fixit brigade gets here.”

Martin was about to ask ‘who?’ when they heard a light jingle come from down the road. Macaroon and Martin looked back to see a bulky, archaic ice cream truck trundle over the grass, avoiding the destroyed road. Martin blinked and looked at Macaroon who shrugged.

It turned into the parking lot fully and stopped so the passenger could wave at them. Martin blanched when he saw a human sized, grinning pigeon.

“Macaroon. Fucking. Nichols! I should have known,” he slapped the driver, “I told you Bullet. I told you man! I’d recognize the aura of Concrete Jungle anywhere!”

He opened his door and waddled out. Martin swallowed as he saw the pigeon was wearing a green workman’s uniform with a painter’s hat. His ‘arms’ were long and distended, the hands made of multi-jointed fingers that were too large for the rest of him. His legs were thick and squat and appeared to have no knees by the way he walked.

“Good on you, Peanut. Losing your edge, Macaroon?” the driver said as it came around the front of the truck. It was human sized, but a rottweiler. The head on all sides was flat like a box and the ears were twisted into a propeller around his hat. He had a second set of arms folded up against his back.

“Yo why all you guys look so fucked up when you get big?” Martin asked.

“Just wait until you hit puberty kid,” Peanut joked as he went to Macaroon and held up his fist. Macaroon’s arm stretched to meet it and they went through a complicated pound pattern. “I thought you retied! Who’s the rookie they roped you with?”

“I did,” Macaroon said, his foreleg returning to normal, “And it’s the one almost passed out, Mackenzie.”

Peanut adjusted his hat and whistled, “No shit? Hey! She has the same first name as Frederick’s,” realization dawned on his face, and it fell. He shook and stepped back from Macaroon, “Oh. Oh Macaroon, dude I am so sorry. I would have-”

“Just get to work. This place opens at eight,” Macaroon said, his face shadowed.

“Sure, yeah. Bullet! I’ll handle the building you look to the kids,” he nodded to Macaroon and pulled a sharpie from his pocket. Popping the cap off he began to draw with red lines in the air around piles of debris.

“Here kid, you first,” Bullet said as he handed Martin a cup of glowing orange liquid and a bucket.

“Uh?” Martin looked to Macaroon who nodded and motioned to drink. “Fuck it. Bottoms up,” he drained the cup and smacked his lips, “Oh! That shit’s good!”

“Thanks, help her,” Bullet said producing a second cup and another bucket.

Mackenzie was fed the drink and she sighed before her eyes snapped open and she sat up. Both of them sucked in air as the small scrapes they had accumulated began to fade. The head wound which had stopped bleeding, but not fully been healed, vanished and Mackenzie felt hair grow back and replace itself. Martin coughed and reached into his mouth.

“Holy shit! Mackenzie! That cavity is gone!” he said standing and checking himself.

Mackenzie took off her shoe and looked at her toes, “My blisters from the training camp are gone too!”

“This shit is amazing! But why the buckets?” Martin asked as they tested their new healthier bodies.

“Three,” Bullet said looking at a watch on one of his left arms. Mackenzie and Martin stared before they grabbed their stomachs. “Two,” he said as he pointed to the buckets. Both teenagers fell to their knees groaning in pain before they grabbed the pails and held them up, “Bucket.”

At Bullet’s word both of them retched black tarry masses into the buckets. They came out like liquid but quickly became semi-solid moving like overly wet gelatin. They steamed in the morning air and Martin fell back screaming.

“Yo what the fuck! How many times does a brother have to say that in one night!” he yelled.

Bullet sniffed and stuck a metal rod into both masses. He pulled it out and check it like a dipstick before nodding and taking the buckets to the back of the truck.

“Urshan blood and flesh is highly toxic. But if an Urshan is underdeveloped, or is killed quickly, the toxicity remains low for a few hours. If you got any in or on your bodies, you’d be at risk for becoming monsters,” he explained as he dumped each bucket into a container and began filling out cards for both. “The drink heals any wounds just in case they are Urshan related. You’ll be spitting up some more masses until tomorrow morning. We have specialized doctors to go to if that lasts more than a day.”

“Man, warn someone next time!” Martin said.

“Noted in the report kid,” Bullet brushed off before putting everything away.

“Yo. I’m eighteen. I ain’t no kid!” Martin said poking his shoulder as Bullet walked away. “That’s what I thought. Fucking freaky ass four-armed ass dog man.”

He and Peanut stood outside the hole to the cooler room. They both swallowed and walked in, approaching Frederick’s body. Staying about ten steps away they, both fell to one knee and put their hands together in prayer after removing their hats.

“What are they doing?” Mackenzie asked Macaroon.

“Honoring him,” he said, bowing his head as well. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

“He like some sort of god, or something?” Martin asked, earning an angry glare from Macaroon.

“No, Martin,” the cat said almost spitting, “But he was a legend in our coven.”

“He kept Harrison City safe, by himself, from the start of the century until almost the end of Jim Crow,” a third voice said. The two turned and gasped as they saw a lizard like creature scuttle down the road. It was dragging a cart with the same feet cogs as the scooter.

The cart was filled with the animal carcasses they had passed.

“Hey Jerry,” Macaroon called.

Jerry was a lizard with an anthropomorphic upper body and a long six-legged lower body. The legs ended in the two toed feet commonly seen in chameleons, and his tail was a corkscrew about five feet long. Its head resembled a gecko with a pair of large bluish white eyes.

“How did you clean up all those animals?” Mackenzie asked.

Jerry kicked the feet of the cart with one of his legs. At the back of the cart a mouth opened spilling a thick slimy tongue that snaked across the ground. It wrapped itself around some debris and momentarily looked to swallow it before it changed its mind and swallowed the tongue back.

“Oh, that is too messed up,” Martin whispered, seeing an unsightly similarity between it and Silver Tongue’s mouth.

“You kids seem to be normal,” Jerry said as he suddenly drew a handgun and pointed it at Martin.

“Fuck!” Martin cried as he threw up his hands. Before anyone could argue Jerry fired, the bullet striking Martin between the eyes. Mackenzie screeched before she realized it had splattered against his face like a paintball shot.

Martin fell back, but stayed on his feet making a gurgling noise as the putty the bullet became swirled from dark grey to blues and greens. After a few moments it popped off martin’s face and he fell fully onto the ground, his mouth agape and his eyes rolled into his head.

“What did you do?!” Mackenzie asked falling to his side.

“Cleaning up his memory. He’ll only remember you calling him and then falling asleep,” Jerry explained as he grabbed the ball the splatter had become. He stored it inside a glass tube and placed it inside the truck.

“So, he won’t remember any of this?” Mackenzie asked.

Macaroon nodded, “It’s a precaution, Mack. You have to understand. Any of you boys have a ride back to HQ?” he asked.

“I do,” Jerry answered as he reached into a pocket and threw a piece of chalk to the cat. “We also have the dopple doll. We’ll replace it now.

Macaroon had begun to draw on the ground when he stopped and looked at Mackenzie, “Let’s give Freddie a look.”

She gave him a side eyed nod and walked with him to the drawer containing her grandfather’s body. It was the same pale skin and closed eyes. The star tattoos on his chest looked even older now she had time to study him.

“He was five stars?” Mackenzie asked.

“When he died,” Macaroon said, “He gave up a lot of his power for a final spell. Making a contract. He did it so you would never learn about any of this or gain magic. Took almost ten years to get everything together.”

“Looks like the spell failed,” Mackenzie muttered, she put her hand on his chest and felt the coldness of the boy.

“Yeah. Guess it did,” Macaroon said putting a forepaw to his own. “You need some time, Mackenzie?”

She shook her head slowly, “No. This is just a body. My grandfather is long gone. Are we going to this HQ together?”

“Yep. Let me finish drawing the passage. Look after Martin for a minute,” he requested. When Mackenzie left, he hopped to the body and placed his head against Fredericks’s cheek. “I hope she chooses the right path, Freddie. I’d hate for all this to be for nothing. So long partner.”

He hopped back down and walked to where he had left the chalk. As he drew, he looked to Mackenzie who was watching him. She quickly returned to Martin and fidgeted with his jacket sleeves. Macaroon focused on his work and frowned deeply.

<><><>

“Okay, Mack you and Mee-Maw with Charlotte in the van. I’ll take dad’s car with Macaroon,” Paul said as he paced back and forth. He was furiously cleaning his glasses. Charlotte took them from him, gave them a once over and slid them onto his face, “Thanks Lotte.”

She kissed his cheek, “Any time, doll. Mama, Mackenzie, let’s go.”

“Why we gotta go in that cracker van?” Teritha asked eyeing the old Coupe de Ville instead. Frederick had restored it with help of Martin’s brother-in-law Marshall.

“Mama!” Charlotte yelled, shushing her.

“Oh, my apologies,” Teritha rolled her eyes, “Why we gotta go in the woman van? Better?”

“Cause it’s got the better seats for your back, mama,” Charlotte snarled through gritted teeth. “Now shimmy your old ass into that-”

“Damn my back, Charlotte! I ain’t showing up to his friends and family as cargo. Paul, boy, get the door for me. I’ll hold the carrier,” Teritha said ignoring her daughter and hobbling down their stoop to the car.

When Charlotte went to protest Paul motioned for her to forget it. He opened the door for his mother-in-law and helped her in. She patted his hand and sat neatly as he closed the door. The look of superiority she gave Charlotte caused her to bristle.

“Come on, Mama. Daddy, I’ll take the carrier!” Mackenzie said as she picked it up and lugged it to their van. Charlotte continued to mutter and curse under her breath as she opened the sliding door for Mackenzie. “You okay, mama?”

“Perfectly fine, baby,” she said sweetly before her face returned to the scowl and she started muttering again. “Paul, we going through Harper’s Block or around the Red?” she called.

“Around the Red! Anthony will meet us outside,” he answered as he got in.

Charlotte took her seat and started the van. As she did, she heard the almost primal rumble of the De Ville’s engine starting and pouted when it was followed by her mother’s giddy laughter. Charlotte shook her head when she saw the car take off.

“Macaroon will have to stay in the car for the first part, right?” Mackenzie asked, hoping talk of the schedule would pull her mother from her anger.

“Yes,” Charlotte said as she motioned to her purse, sitting at Mackenzie’s feet. Mackenzie pulled one of Charlotte’s many flip notebooks free and handed it to her. Steering with one hand, she used practiced grace to dig her thumb to one page and flip the book open. “Twelve to two, family and friends service. Placement of offerings are done then. Short reading by Father Micah at one fifteen. Then break for lunch and snacks. Animal friendly open service from three thirty until six.”

She flipped it closed and handed it back to Mackenzie.

“No idea why it needs to be animal friendly,” Charlotte huffed, leaning back. “As obedient as the cat is, I still think animals at a funeral is wrong.”

“Papa liked animals,” Mackenzie reasoned.

“Yeah, I like shoes, but I don’t want a runway show at mine,” she countered.

Mackenzie nodded and put her hands in her lap. She rubbed her right palm with her left thumb and began to absently trace the shape she barely remembered.

“Mama?” she asked.

“Pass me my smoking bag,” Charlotte ordered. Mackenzie drew out a pack of cigarettes. Charlotte took one and Mackenzie lit it for her. She rolled down her window and exhaled out it, “Yes, baby?”

“Is it more important to honor someone’s wishes or their legacy?” Mackenzie asked looking at her mother.

Charlotte stole a brief glance at her daughter. She let the smoke waft from her nose, her cigarette resting between her index and middle fingers. She took a drag.

“That’s real vague, Mack,” she answered.

Mackenzie swallowed. Charlotte only called her Mack when she wanted a conversation to be short and to the point.

“Granddaddy Sloan,” Mackenzie began, “He wanted you to be a scientist, right?”

Charlotte snorted, “Yeah he did. Saw my scores one day and danced like he swallowed a bait bucket.” The smile that spread on her face as she remembered her father warmed Mackenzie, “But being good at the Parish’s test wasn’t the beginning of a career in STAB, Mack. When I came up here for college they asked if my school was even real.”

She ashed out the window.

“And now you’re an accountant,” Mackenzie said. “I guess what I’m asking. Is. Well Granddaddy Sloan thought you could do big things,” she emphasized by making a circle with her arms.

“Four people work under me, Mack. I got two ladies who been doing numbers since they segregated ink wells. Two others are able to find errors and fix em before that ink dries,” Charlotte took another drag, “So it ain’t curing cancer, or inventing a flying car, but my department has the best, and cleanest, records of any CPA in this state.”

“That’s what I mean,” Mackenzie said drawing another look from Charlotte, “You haven’t changed the world, but you’ve changed their world. I remember the audit. You’re the only who didn’t lose anyone.”

“Keep good books. Good books don’t lie,” Charlotte replied softly.

“They’d be out of a job. Mrs. Hutch would have lost her house. Mr. Tom would have had to use his son’s college money,” Mackenzie continued.

“Don’t believe everything you hear from people at a Christmas party, Mack. Free eggnog makes everything seem more important,” Charlotte said as she finished her cig and tossed it.

“If you hadn’t been an accountant. They might have been laid off, fired. You may have changed their lives for the better. But if you had been a scientist-”

Charlotte held up a finger to stop her and motioned to the pack again. Mackenzie gave her another cig and lit it again. Charlotte took a drag and held the smoke in her lungs for a moment.

“Mackenzie,” she began, “I became an accountant because math was easy. Money was easier. I like counting money and making the numbers add up. Got a bit of the Rain Man in me for that. I do it because I like it. Not because I knew it made Beverly’s or Tom’s lives better. They didn’t ask to be under me, and I didn’t ask to be their boss. “

She ashed out the window.

“That company gives me a crisp raise every review, a bonus every quarter, and four holiday parties with free bars every year. As much as I love, and miss, my daddy, he didn’t have a damn thing to do with my decisions.”

She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and smiled.

“Plus, if I never did that project analyst event, I’d never have met your daddy,” she reached over and poked Mackenzie’s nose. Her smile fell and she looked serious as she followed Paul, “I did think about him, and how much he and mama thought about my potential when I signed up for those classes. But when I saw I could make my own way. Choose my own teachers. I did it my way.”

Charlotte settled into the car seat as they reached a red light, “My daddy lived his life in a shack his granddaddy built, with wood I’m sure that man had to steal or beg for. When he finally died, he had a warehouse he had paid someone else to build and fifteen semi engines to his name.”

They pulled into the lot beside the place Frederick’s service would be held. Mackenzie looked at the smokestacks. The fires under them had burned the copy of Frederick’s body not two days ago.

“So maybe he would have preferred my name along with some Latin in the book bout some disease or mineral or some device. But I bought this dress,” she put her thumb to her chest, “I bought your dress, and paid the bill for you and Paul’s last optometrist visit.”

She got out of the car and lit up another cigarette. Mackenzie got out as well and grabbed a bowl and a bottle of water for Macaroon. He gave her a nod and a meow as she placed them in his carrier and closed the door.

“If you’re asking me which is better, I can’t answer that, baby. All I can say is that I much prefer the life of Charlotte Nichols the accountant, to the fantasy of Charlotte Landry, woman of some obscure science,” she concluded as she smiled and kissed Mackenzie’s head. “Let’s wait here for your daddy and Mee-maw. Bet she had him drive by every rib joint and salon open to show off.”

Mackenzie gave a nod and a smile and sat on the seat, Macaroon behind her, his keen feline eyes studying her back.