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“Felicity is in South America, huh?” I said.
“Yep, that’s what she said,” he replied. “Working with the Indians like her old man did.”
“She’ll be back one day.”
“No, she won’t. When her kind go away, they go away.”
“Did you know I got a card from Wyatt Dixon? He didn’t sign it, but I know it was from him.”
“Don’t mention that guy to me, Dave.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
He unwrapped a piece of peppermint candy and put it in his mouth and sucked on it. “So what’d he say?”
“ ‘Tell Miss Gretchen good luck with her moviemaking.’ ”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I said. “Ready?”
“I’d like to just sit here awhile. The lake looks like a giant green teardrop at the foot of that snowfield. I’ve never seen flowers that gold,” he said.
“I think you’re right.”
“Dave?” he said.
“What’s up?”
“You think we’ve done okay with our lives? You think the good outweighs the bad?”
“That’s the way I’d read it.” I cupped my hand on his shoulder. “Let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll finish our stroll and take everyone to lunch. It’s a grand day for it.”
“Roger that, big mon,” he replied.
We got up and hiked the rest of the way to the log teahouse on top of the mountain, the trees so thick and tall on either side of us that they seemed to touch the clouds, more like the pillars of heaven than earthly trees.
