was the first question Grammy asked when he and the boys arrived at her house on Sunday. “I told you we weren’t dating.” Nick was feeling a little defensive after fielding almost the same question from his sons. The fact that she still hadn’t returned his calls was also adding to his grumpy mood. “She’s Harley’s trainer….That’s all.” “Too bad. I liked her.” Grammy had a bowl of potatoes on her lap, and she peeled as she talked. Brad and Brent were busy making roads and hills in the dirt under the big oak tree for an epic Matchbox off-road rally. It was difficult to grow grass in that spot because of the deep shade, which made it perfect for everything from a racetrack to a ranch to a prehistoric world. Three generations of male Archers had played in that dirt, building anything they could imagine with twigs and stones. Buried in the dirt and under layers of leaves in the nooks and crannies of the gnarly oak roots, the young boys had even discovered some old, rusted Matchbox cars that had once belonged to their dad and uncles.
