“A holiday-s***h-inpatient program?”
“Yes.”
“I like it.” Venkat’s grin was so huge it nearly split his face. “And what about the stories? What kind of stories?”
“That’s Pen.” John pointed above him, to the portrait. “The witch I was telling you about from three hundred years ago. Give or take. I said I’d do a recording of some of my best stories about her for the kids.”
“Can I hear them?” Venkat asked Evangeline.
“They’re Johnny’s stories, love. He can give them to anyone he likes—and I know that’s how she’d want it. I just want something for the kids when I have them all around and Johnny’s off doing a tour or an album or something equally rock star.”
“There’s some good ones.” John chuckled.
“Maybe…” Venkat chewed on his bottom lip, still petting the cat gently.
“Maybe?”
“Maybe y
