A couple of cans in hand, I go in search of Michael. I find him sitting on the terrace wall, looking out over the meadows and down to the lake.
I offer out a can. “Beer?”
He smiles. “Sure.”
He pops his. I pop mine. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“Helluva spot isn’t it,” he says at length.
“It’s hard to beat.”
He glugs from his can. Wipes foam from his mouth. “What’s the latest from Mitch on Klempner?”
“Out of danger. Bored. She doesn’t seem worried.”
He snorts. “Everything’s fine there, then.” He stares into space for a moment. “And Charlotte?”
“Improving, I’d say, now she knows her father’s on the mend. In fact, I think it’s a good cue to lighten the mood.”
Michael’s vacant expression clears. “Beth’s idea?”
“Beth’s idea.”
His smile dawns then widens. “James
