"Wicked good," Joe said in Maine speak. "Ono," he added in pidgin.
"Hello, there." It was Sally, happy and more tired than he remembered. She swept up and threw her arms around him, then turned and introduced a stout man waiting at her side. "Gino, this is Joe."
"Hi, Gino. You are the second Gino I've known. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way," They shook hands.
"Thank you. It has been, what, six years now?" Gino turned to Sally. She was rangy and athletic. Gino came only to her ear, but he was solidly built and did not seem smaller. His eyes were dark and rather impenetrable.
"Going for seven," Sally said.
"Can you believe our little girl is getting married?" Joe asked her.
"It's time," she said.
"Maybe you'll be a grandfather, Joe, ha, ha."
"Ha, Gino. I hope so."
"Ha. Come Joe, help me with the wine." He led Joe to his car, and they carried two cases into the house. "One red, one white. Special. I brought them from Denver."