"Rolf, you fine driver, you." Audrey, or Monica, came up and put her hand on Rolf's arm. "Cindy and Jake are at the ferry." Rolf nodded. "And Kate needs a jar of capers." "A Mediterranean condiment. I'm on my way. Small or large? The capers . . . The jar, I mean." "Better get large," Audrey Monica said. "Well, I shall look forward to hearing about the settlers later," Joe said, drawing a beer. It was delicious, much like the ale at the brew pub. Jackson came by, filled a paper cup, and told him that it was from the brew pub. "Good stuff, no?" "Wicked good," Joe said in Maine speak. "Ono," he added in pidgin. "Hello, there." It was Sally, happy and more tired than he remembered. She swept up and threw her arms around him, then turned and introduced a stout man waiting at her side. "Gino, this is Joe." "Hi, Gino. You are the second Gino I've known. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way," They shook hands. "Thank you. It has been, what, six years now?" Gino turned to Sally. She was rangy and athletic. Gino came only to her ear, but he was solidly built and did not seem smaller. His eyes were dark and rather impenetrable. "Going for seven," Sally said. "Can you believe our little girl is getting married?" Joe asked her. "It's time," she said. "Maybe you'll be a grandfather, Joe, ha, ha." "Ha, Gino. I hope so." "Ha. Come Joe, help me with the wine." He led Joe to his car, and they carried two cases into the house. "One red, one white. Special. I brought them from Denver." "Kate tells me you have a wine store." "Small, yes. But we do all right. People in this country are discovering wine." "Hey Joe, is this one of your father's?" Max was standing in front of an oil painting at the far end of the living room. Gino and Joe went over. "For sure," Joe said. He hadn't seen it before. "Wedding present!" Kate called from the kitchen. "We brought it over to make the house seem more like home." It was a Deer Isle scene. An apple tree in full bloom, crowded by woods behind it, leaned over the edge of a field and a stock car that was missing its hood and engine. The car's wheels were twisted strangely in the grass. A large yellow 90 was painted on a blue door. White blossoms lay scattered on the wreck. "'Memorial Day' is the name of the painting," Kate said coming closer. "You like it?" "Pretty good," Max said. "I think he's getting better," Joe said. "Is he coming, Kate, by the way?" "No. He said he wanted to but he wasn't feeling up to the trip." "Very artistic," Gino said. "And this too." He held up a knight from Jackson's chess set which was laid out on a table beneath the painting. He spun the piece slowly between his thumb and forefinger. "Jackson made those," Joe said. "Very nice. Do you play chess, Joe?" "Yes, but . . . " "How about a game?"