Maxwells Smile

today? Isn’t he coming?”
    Now that was good ol’ nosy Mrs. Hogan.
    “He’s making a cookie run.”
    The woman looked over the rim of her sunglasses at Rachel. “You two are getting close?”
    “We’re friends,” she offered, then winked at Maxwell. No need to fertilize the grapevine.
    * * *
    When he returned to the church, Sam managed to find the last parking space in the sizable lot. He whistled, stunned at how well the event was going. And all because a nine-year-old boy wanted to make other kids his age smile.
    Balancing the boxes of bakery cookies on his arms, he made his way to the refreshments table, which was decorated with Maxwell’s streamers and a sign Sam had helped letter. This redneck construction worker had quite the artistic flair with a green crayon, if he said so himself.
    Rachel came up to take the cookies from him, but before she could say anything, a flurry of women surrounded Sam to help unpack the treats. They all said hello to him and shook his hand, and more than a few winked and then gave Rachel a sly smile.
    The attention made him blush. If they weren’t greeting him at the door with martinis, they were pawing at him in the church parking lot.
    Sam carefully extricated himself from the female attention and made his way over to the main table, where Maxwell wielded a stylus and his ever-present iPad. He wore a smart baseball cap that had the gold-and-blue logo for Kid Flicks taped over the brim.
    “How you doing, buddy?”
    “Sam! Look at all the DVDs! We’ve taken in hundreds, and we still have a few hours to go. This is stupendous!”
    “You did it all by yourself, Maxwell. I’m real proud of you.”
    Sam went around behind the table and lifted the boy in a hug. Maxwell squeezed him back, and it felt great.
    “Did you see the sign?” he whispered, and then squirmed to be let down. Running around the table, he pointed to a poster taped to the front of it.
    Sam peered between a couple who were heading over a grocery bag filled with DVDs. The sign was printed in a script style, with a red font. Maxwell had dedicated the event to his brother, Jeff.
    Sam slammed a palm over his beating heart and looked skyward, fighting the tears, but was unsuccessful. The kid was too kind for his own good. And for Sam’s good. He sniffled. Hell, what had the McHenrys done to him, making him all mushy and soft? Sam Jones was a hard nail that could take a good pounding.
    Until he’d met this little boy who liked to study brains, and his mother, who made the best lasagna, and sprinkled chocolate husks in her garden.
    “Sam?” He felt Maxwell’s small, warm hand slip into his. “Is that okay, what I did? If you’re not cool with it…”
    “Buddy.” He bent down to Maxwell’s level. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and my brother. I love you for that.”
    “You’re crying, Sam.”
    “Good tears, Maxwell. I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have met you and your mother. The two of you put a smile on my face and in my heart.”
    Maxwell hugged him around the neck. “I’m pretty lucky, too. My mom likes you and so do I. I wish I could have met Jeff. He was the luckiest guy to have you as a big brother.”
    “We had good times, Maxwell. Good times.” Sam wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at a man wielding a bulky bag.
    Maxwell stepped out of the hug and asked, “Do you want to help me box up the DVDs people are dropping off?” “I’m your wing man. You be the guy in charge, and I’ll stand behind you, taking care of the heavy lifting and boxing duties.”
    They exchanged a high five and took up their positions behind the table. Sniffing away his tears, Sam whispered a thank-you skyward: “I miss you, Jeff, but I know you’re in a good place now with Mom and Dad.”
    The event was a huge success, and a couple teachers from area schools got the Kid Flicks contact information from Maxwell because they wanted to plan a school-wide drive as well. And when the last few cars pulled out of the parking lot, Sam estimated they had at least half a pickup truck of DVDs. Since he had agreed to be the shipping guy, he knew what he’d be doing tomorrow—stopping by grocery stores for some packing boxes.
    He joined Rachel to help her clean up the refreshments table. All the cookies were gone. The drink dispenser they’d borrowed from a local restaurant merely had to be rinsed out with a hose when they got home, and returned within a few days. Sam packed all