"Oh, Joe."
"If they're out of those, get the kind with the bumper tires lashed around."
"O.K.—if they have them," she said. "See you Saturday."
Joe put a new notebook in his back pocket, and left for the second walk of the day. He found the San Juan Islands in an atlas at the main library. They were small, off the northernmost coast of Washington. He strolled to the Columbia Inn and ate a Reuben sandwich. It would be good to see everyone and to meet Jackson's family. All he had to do was show up in shape and not drink too much. He would buy an outfit that could travel in the Filson bag. A camera. The Edgewater, he thought. Stay there Thursday, stay on the island Friday and Saturday nights, and then go back to the Edgewater on Sunday—that would break up the trip. He made a list, and then he began to write about Mike and the little girl.
The message light was blinking when he got home. "Joe, are you there?" It was Mo. "No? I'm afraid lunch will have to wait. My sister has talked me into going on a retreat with her. I'm going to combine the trip with work, and then we're both going to Vermont for my parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. I won't be back until Labor Day." She paused. "Maybe we can get together then. Bye." Damn. Joe had been hoping that she would be a buffer against Alison's attention. He made tea, sat at the computer, and began to enter the cat burglar story.
The next days were filled with writing and shopping. His money was draining away, but Kate's wedding was important. How could he skimp? The San Juan Islands would probably be cool in September. He bought a silk and wool blend jacket—olive, gray, and brown in a quiet weave. A pair of lightweight wool pants, neutral gray green, a silvery tan Italian dress shirt, and a dark brown tie complemented the jacket. He bought an Olympus camera that had a sliding lens cover and would fit in a pocket. His shoes had been re-soled twice and were ragged. He bought another pair, the same style, trusty Clarks. The outfit was expensive, but he wanted to dress honestly.
"I want to feel like myself," he told Alison on Saturday.
"I'm sure your daughter will be proud of you," Alison said.
"The clothes should last—if I don't climb a tree or fall into a vat of red wine." They were headed out of town toward Nanakuli. It was raining on and off; the weather was likely to be better on the leeward side.
"How's your course?" Joe asked.