In the backyard, she turned me over to Wyatt, who was wearing an apron bearing the words BURNT AND GREASY GOES BETTER WITH BEER. “Odd,” Chief Porter said, “I hope you’ve not come here to ruin my evening.” “That’s not my intention, sir.” The chief was tending to two grills—the first fired by gas for vegetables and ears of corn, the second by charcoal for the steaks.
