Tucker's house was a weathered collection of gray boxes that were settling away from each other. A reddish dog got down from a couch on the porch and came to meet them. There was white around her muzzle. "Company, Sally. Margery Sewall and her friend, Charlie." The dog received Tucker's hand on her head and greeted them, sniffing each in turn. "Sally don't see as well as she used to—do you girl?" Her tail wagged and she led them to the house.
"You've got bees." Charlie pointed at four hives that stood on 2x4's at the end of a narrow garden.
"Yep. Good year, last year."
"The lilacs are even bigger than I remember," Margery said.
"They keep right on going." Tucker took them through the house and kitchen to a screened back porch. Charlie and Margery sat at a large table while he brought bread, cheese, pickles, salami, mayonnaise, mustard, a bowl of lettuce, and a smaller bowl of radishes. He set plates and three glasses. "I've got beer, water, and—a little milk."
"Beer," Charlie said.
"Margery?"
"Beer."
"Three sodas coming up," Tucker said.
He and Margery reminisced. "Jack had a taste for the good stuff,"
Tucker said. "Five o'clock, regular. Never minded sharing, did Jack."
Charlie ate steadily and accepted another can of beer.