"A pot and a wok—what more do you need?"
"Really, Joe." She sniffed his olive oil. "I knew I should have brought some," she said.
He uncorked a bottle of Chianti and gave her the house glass. "I'll use the mug. Happy days."
"Happy days, Joe."
They began on the quiche. Joe put down his fork after the first bite.
"This is damned good!" Rhiannon nodded calmly.
"I love this," she said, reaching for Maxie's box. She opened it.
"It's an arrowhead from Vermont. My stepson, Max, found it." She weighed the arrowhead in her palm, as he had.
"Max made the box. He was in New Zealand . . . It's a special wood from there. Kauri, it's called." Rhiannon placed the arrowhead back in its oval and turned the box around, looking at it from each side. Joe pointed at the picture of Stone Man. "He did that, too." Rhiannon leaned over the table and looked closely at the photograph. Her eyes opened wider.
"Awesome."
"He balances there and watches over the valley. His hands are weights.
'Stone Man,' Maxie calls him."