"Some trip that was." Morgan was grayer but still powerful. "So, what are you doing?"
"Starting over. I've been saving since Ingrid and I split up. I put a bed in the back of the truck, got rid of a bunch of stuff, and here I am."
"When did you leave? You want some eggs?"
"Three days ago. That's affirmative on the eggs," Joe said. "I've had it with computer programming. Jamming all that stuff in your head messes you up. You wake up at two in the morning and start working."
"Good money," Morgan said.
"For good reason."
"Did you sell everything?"
"Just about. Kept my tools, a couple of boxes of books, some clothes.
Kept the cat, Jeremy, but he jumped ship on Deer Isle at my father's.
Oh yeah, my notebooks, a footlocker full—I was wondering if you'd
stash them for me. I'd hate to lose them; they go all the way back."
"Sure. Maybe you'll write a book one of these days."
"I don't know; all I ever do is look at things and try to describe them. Should have been a painter like my father. No talent, though. Anyway, after I took off, I went up to see him and Ann on Deer Isle. He gave me a painting for Kate."