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Thanks very much for taking care of him, by the way. We just had a chat. He says you're a nice man and you have some Laphroiag left." "You can't tell a cat anything, these days," Arlen said. "It's not quite cocktail hour, but I suppose it's close enough." "Just a drop," Oliver said. They sat near the birds. "Perseverance furthers," Oliver toasted. "That's from the I Ching."
Tom Alden. Three o'clock." "You must be Mr. Prescott." "Oliver." "Please make yourself comfortable. Mr. Alden will be with you in just a moment. May I get you a refreshment?" "Ah, that's very nice of you. Let's see." Take your blouse off. Laphroiag. A ticket to anywhere . . . "Coffee cream, no sugar, if you would." The woman pressed a button and spoke softly.
When he reached the parking area at The Devil's Churn, he opened the Laphroiag and took two long swallows. He put the bottle on the front seat and got out of the Jeep. The sun was setting behind a layer of low dark clouds. Oliver walked slowly down the wooden steps slippery from spray at the bottom. The surf was high. Waves exploded up the fissure in the rocks, roaring and seething.
"But I like Verdi. It will be no trouble. When are you leaving?" "Friday." "No problem. Would you like a drink? We don't get to chat often." "Sure." "Let me see. I have ale and, of course, the hard stuff." "You wouldn't have any Glenlivet, by any chance?" Arlen smiled. "Would Laphroiag do?" "Damn, Arlen. I'll choke it down. Yes." Arlen poured two drinks. "Another day, another dollar," he toasted.
The next morning, he bought a bright red shirt and a bottle of Laphroiag. As he drove north on I5, he thought about Francesca and what to say to her. He forgot it all as soon as he found a parking place, late in the afternoon, several blocks from her address in Ballard. The city was attractive, bustling, built on hills overlooking Puget Sound. It had been hot in Tucson.
"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." "How is he?" "Going with his boots on. Just before I left, he gave me a drink from his stash of Laphroiag in the barn. We had a country music toast.
As he ate and drank, the conversations around him blurred together, so that he caught the intent but not the detail, a more relaxing state. He had a small Dewars and refrained from asking Eric to release the Laphroiag from its hiding place. He began to see large wind-up keys protruding from the backs of the guests. I must have one too, he thought, but set for a different kind of motion.
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