Free Maxwells Smile by Michele Hauf Page A

handed out all the cookies. When Rachel saw the rust bucket pull into the parking lot, she ran toward it, hoping to catch Sam before he got out.
    “We need more cookies,” she said, gasping. “Sorry to ask you this, but would you mind? Here’s some cash.”
    He shooed away her offer. “I’ll get this one. Part of my contribution to the drive. How’s it going?”
    “Great. I’ll tell Maxwell you’ll be right back.”
    “Sure. What kind of cookies?”
    “Chocolate chip!” She leaned in and kissed him, and Sam slid his hand through her hair. “Thank you. For everything.”
    “It’s easy to give everything to the dynamic McHenry duo. Be back in half an hour.” Rachel hugged herself as she wandered back to the collections table. The movie the other night had been followed by a stroll in the park, hands clasped, with them stealing kisses in the shadows. It felt real. Could it be real?
    A niggling of doubt stabbed her heart, but she quickly shook it off. Sam Jones was real, and she and Maxwell were blessed to have him in their lives. That was enough for the moment.
    At the table, neighborhood gossip Lucy Hogan handed over a box of DVDs to Maxwell.
    “Oh, Rachel, your boy is so clever,” the woman said to her. She pushed up her expensive Dior sunglasses and gestured with her leopard-print fingernails. “I can’t tell you how much this event means to me.”
    “Really?” Rachel didn’t want to question, but this could shine light on a new side to the woman who would gossip with the Pope if she ever met him.
    “Yes. I’ll just tell you. You listen, too, Maxwell. Then you’ll understand how much good you’re doing.” She propped a hip on the table and lowered her head. “My niece was sick a few years ago.”
    “Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry.”
    “She was in the hospital for almost nine months, poor thing. Her mommy and daddy lived in North Dakota, so they couldn’t afford to stay down here with her all the time. I went in and visited her three times a week. She had a debilitating disease that left her muscles so weak, she couldn’t even lift her arms to drink or feed herself. And the IV she had to wear in the back of her hand bruised her skin and was very painful. But she never cried. She was so brave.
    “Anyway, Maxwell, you have to know that Maria loved to read, but like I said, couldn’t lift a book because of her weak muscles. So instead she’d get a nurse to turn on the television for her, because all she could do was sit and look ahead. But the nurses can’t be there all the time to switch the channels, so she ended up watching a lot of news, which never interests an eight-year-old, let me tell you. It would have been so wonderful if the hospital had had a library of DVDs specifically selected for children.”
    Lucy leaned down and kissed Maxwell on the forehead. “I wish you could have met Maria. She liked doing smart things like you do. Always had a book in her hand. I would read to her when I visited.”
    “That was awfully nice of you, Mrs. Hogan,” Maxwell said. “How is Maria now?”
    “She didn’t make it, Maxwell. The disease she had ate away at her slowly. But she died peacefully.”
    Rachel squeezed Lucy’s hand. The woman sat up straighter on the table and pushed up her sunglasses, resuming a modicum of élan. “Oh, that’s so unlike me to have out with personal stuff like that. Don’t you think? But you need to know that what you’re doing, Maxwell, will benefit so many.”
    “Thank you for sharing your story with us, Lucy,” Rachel said as the older woman adjusted the designer scarf wrapped stylishly about her hips.
    The things a person learned about people they thought they knew. It was a wonder. Rachel would never look at Lucy the same again, and that was a good thing.
    “So I told all the women at the nail salon about your charity drive,” Lucy said to Maxwell. “You’ll be seeing a steady stream of donations today, I’m sure. Good luck! And Rachel, I thought we’d