With Thumper in the shower and Bob-Gunnar hard at work doing whatever it is small-town lawyers do, it fell to Mikey and me to put some lunch on the table. Cheese, crackers, spicy leftover this, creamy leftover that; lunch was an informal affair, and preparing it mostly involved setting four plates and a roll of paper towels on the table and then lounging in the roomy deck chairs on the porch until the fellas were ready to join us and sit down.
“So, Mikey,” I said, continuing to pick at the thread that Thumper had exposed down by the creek. “How do you like working with Bob-Gunnar?”
“Love it,” he said. “It’s interesting work. You know, sometimes. And I can walk here, which is a big plus. Lot of the guys I know drive up to Banks every day to bus tables or work at the mall. This is way bett
