"Jeremy! Well, well. Jeremy. He looks in good shape, Ann. Thank you for taking care of him." He turned to Brendan. "He abandoned ship on my last visit. I didn't realize it until I was in New Hampshire."
"Oh, he was great friends with your father. And, after a while, he got on nicely with Georgia." Georgia was a fluffy black and white cat.
"Ah, yes, Georgia—a champion mouser." As if to take a bow, Georgia took three steps in from the hall and sat at the edge of the rug.
"Since we're all here," Ann said, "we might as well have a family conference."
"Mother, Joe has been driving all morning. How can he possibly have a conference without coffee or wine?"
"Yes, of course."
"Joe, what can I get you?" he asked.
"Wine."
Brendan brought out a bottle of Pinot Blanc and poured them each a glass. "Dad," he toasted. They raised their glasses, drank, and were silent a moment.
"I have something to tell you—or ask you boys." Ann looked troubled. "I found your father in that small clearing in the woods, on his regular path, the walk he took most days after lunch. When he wasn't back, around four, I went to look for him. Well, you know this already, Brendan, and now you're caught up, Joe—except for one thing that I wanted to tell you both. It was very strange. Your father was lying on that flat piece of ledge. He was stark naked. I knew right away that he was—not alive. I didn't want anyone to see him like that, so I dressed him before I came back." The memory silenced her for a moment. "Why would he be like that? I thought you might have an idea. I don't understand."