"I could totally eat a horse," Maddie exclaims. "Please don't," Willow quips, the first time she's loosened up in the two hours since we met her. "What? The horse is one of my totem animals." "I don't think she meant it literally," I say to Willow. In addition to smelling the various meats, I sense that there's corn, coleslaw, baked beans, grilled veggies; enough of a spread to feed a small town. Or maybe just a houseful of psychic kids. Chris La'Coston is scurrying around, brandishing a long spatula in the air like she's the conductor of the Boston Pops during the Fourth of July concert. She directs her husband, Glenn, to set the tray of condiments and toppings of tomatoes, cheeses, lettuce, and pickles to the left of the hefty bowl of potato salad. Speedy is underfoot, barking and growling simultaneously for a nip of any scrap from the grill. Chris gently nudges him out of her way, to no avail; she finally gives in and drops a piece of chicken to the ground for the pooch. Speedy triumphantly snags the fowl and disappears into the hydrangea bush.
