• • •
Frank was in the first booth talking to his brewmaster, Ted Klein. There were papers spread on the table. “Well, Big Craig Ralston,” Frank said to his old friend, “sit down.” Craig greeted them both and tucked himself into one side of the table. “We just set our tanks in place today. Ted’s in business. We’re about to make some beer.”
“Good deal,” Craig said. “Congratulations. When do we sample the first batch?”
“We’ll get the wrinkles out this week and start in,” Ted said. “We’re going to make an amber ale that should be ready about the time you get back with your first antelope.”
“I like that,” Craig said. “But I don’t hunt anymore. I gave it up that time with Frank and Mason and Jimmy when we ran into the guy who’d been shot, remember?”
“You gave up everything, don’t you mean, and years ago. We weren’t exactly hunting, more like camping with guns.”
“The point is to get out of town,” Ted said. “If you hunt after that or not, it’s okay.”
“For god sakes, this old fart’s not a hunter,” Frank said to Ted. “We gave it up and went indoors, right, Craig? We’re grass eaters now. I couldn’t tell you where my rifle even is. Time cuts a guy real good.” Frank called for Sonny, and she appeared around the corner and leaned her hip on his shoulder. “Bring us three more, dear,” Frank told her. “Do you remember Craig?”
“I saw him already,” she said. “He’s glad to see me.”
“I am,” Craig said. “I thought—”
“He thought I’d run away so as not to ruin your former marriage,” Sonny said, and disappeared.
“She gets right into it, doesn’t she?” Frank said.
“How is Kathleen?” Craig said.
Ted pushed the papers into line and gathered them up, tapping the edge. He laid them back in a neat stack. Craig could see the diagrams of the vats on the top sheet.
Frank looked pained. “Everybody is fine. It’s all old news. Sonny’s a good woman, with her antenna out to here. She’s sick of everybody assuming she’s the deal, when it was just Kathleen and me crosswise. We’ve had some little moments, but everybody is an adult, and everybody is fine.”
“Good, good,” Craig said too fast. “As you know, I’m one of the few guys you know who wouldn’t know what to do with an opinion.”
Sonny herself appeared now with her tray and three glass pints of lager, setting them before the men. Without speaking or looking at any of them, she left.
“Sonny is staying,” Frank said. “It turns out to be a free country, and she’s staying in town.” He lifted his glass. “Did you come out to take a census? I haven’t seen you in months.”
“I finished a project over at the Brands and had an hour.”
“Are they selling the place?” Frank asked. “All the houses in that neighborhood are turning over.”
“They finished the garage out back, insulation, the works. It’s Jimmy. Jimmy’s coming back. I guess he’s sick.”
“Jimmy Brand.”
“There’s a blast from the past,” Ted said. “That’s Matt Brand’s little brother?”
“I thought Jimmy was dead,” Frank said. “Where’d he live, New York?”