Maxwells Smile

that, Sam?”
    “Of course you can, buddy.”
    “That means you’ll have to take all the movies we collect and box them up and ship them to the Kid Flicks office in California. And you’ll be responsible for shipping charges as well. Is that okay? I don’t have much in my petty funds account after buying a new app for the iPad. It’s a 3-D brain. So cool.”
    “Maxwell, shipping expenses will be my contribution to the cause. Am I doing this right?”
    The boy leaned over Sam’s shoulder and inspected the poster he was working on. They planned to put this one on the street in front of the church the day of the event. “Nice. But maybe outline the green with black to make it stand out.”
    “Good call.”
    Out in the hallway, the vacuum cleaner sounded as Rachel moved into a nearby bedroom. She’d stayed close, never farther than a room away, which Sam found admirable. The woman had no reason to throw caution to the wind and trust him alone with her son, though she shouldn’t worry so much.
    On the other hand, he liked her being close by. Every so often, he caught a whiff of her rose-scented perfume and had to tuck his head down to hide his appreciative smile from Maxwell.
    When the vacuum stopped and they heard the door close on the master bedroom, Sam figured she was making the bed with the stack of sheets that had been piled in a basket in the hallway.
    “So.” Maxwell sat across the writing desk from Sam, putting up his feet and clasping his hands behind his neck in a comical version of the office boss. He whispered, “You like my mom, Sam?”
    Sam sat up straight, glancing out the open doorway. She couldn’t have heard that. Sneaky kid. “I, uh…I do. I think she’s very smart—well, she has to be with a son like you—and she puts chocolate in her garden.”
    “Doesn’t that stuff smell awesome? I do my homework outside in the spring and fall.”
    “You really need to cut down on all the homework, buddy. Don’t you have a swing set or a bike?”
    “A swing set?” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “That’s for babies. Besides, I’m not athletic. I prefer mental gymnastics.”
    Sam shrugged. If the kid never tried anything remotely sportslike, how could he know what he liked and didn’t like? But Sam wouldn’t push. Maxwell might remind him of Jeff, but they were two entirely different people. Jeff had always wanted to come along on his jobs and watch Sam work. They’d built a birdhouse together once, and it still hung in the willow tree in his backyard.
    “I could teach you how to put up a ceiling,” he suggested.
    Maxwell tapped his chin, considering. “Too risky for a kid my age and of such a tender constitution.” He patted his right side. “I’m still recovering, you know.”
    “I know.” Sam held back his smirk.
    The kid was a character, and there was nothing at all wrong with that. He scanned the walls of the boy’s room, noting a chart of the human brain, the periodic table and a poster of a giant cicada. Not a team pennant in sight. Jeff’s room had been filled with sports pennants. Both he and Sam had enjoyed going to the Vikings games with their dad when he was alive.
    “So just you and your mom, eh? You ever wish you had a father?”
    “That’s a very forward question, Sam.”
    “Yeah.” Sam sat back and tossed the crayon onto the stack. “Sorry, buddy. It’s just, I don’t know…every boy needs a dad.”
    “Actually, that’s not true.” Maxwell leaned forward and turned the iPad around to type in something. “Statistics show that a majority of boys brought up by a single mother tend to thrive.” He turned the tablet computer to face Sam. It displayed a graph, but Sam didn’t study it too closely. This wasn’t a topic best discussed with graphs or charts; it should come from the heart.
    “I mean,” Maxwell continued, “look at the president. He was raised by a single mother. And look where he is now.”
    “You got me there. Your mom raised you well. I’d be proud to have a kid like you.”
    “You would? Well.” The boy studied the poster, his fingers toying with the stack of crayons. “I can’t say I wouldn’t mind if Mom fell in love someday. Of course, I would also have to like the guy, but my liking him would hinge on her liking him.”
    “That’s very generous of you, buddy. Sounds like you’ve given it some thought.”
    “Mom and I have discussed this. She’s not desperate for a husband, nor am I desperate for a father. But she would