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Patch looked up, and despite his rule about two martinis and no more, he waved his hand high, ordered a third, and didn’t say a word until it arrived and he’d taken a sip. Adam suspected his friend wouldn’t mind being that olive right now, wanting to dunk himself inside the high-stemmed glass and drown himself.
    â€œWhere the hell is Danton Hill, anyway?”
    â€œUpstate somewhere.”
    â€œLike Westchester?”
    â€œNo, Patch, really upstate. Lake Ontario.”
    â€œThat’s Canada.”
    â€œSort of. Look, Patch, I don’t know why I’m intrigued, but I am, and so I’m going.”
    â€œTo your twentieth high school reunion? Upstate New York . . . in August?”
    â€œHey, not my decision, that’s when the class decided to hold it. We were even polled on our class Web site for the best available month, and August received the most votes. June had too many graduations, July too many vacations. September . . . everyone busy getting on with their lives.” Adam paused, shrugged. “So, August. I’m going. Back home.”
    â€œYou can’t go home again, isn’t that what they always say?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œThat’s not an answer. Unless you’re five years old.”
    Adam, about to open his mouth, hesitated, wondering how much of his motive he should reveal to his cynical friend. And then he thought, what the hell, Patch already thought he’d gone bonkers, why not carry it through? So he explained about his home of Danton Hill, the tiny lakeshore town he’d grown up in, and how he hadn’t back in years. His family no longer lived there, his parents having moved down to Clearwater right after he’d graduated from high school. “But isn’t there always this desire to go back home, see whether it’s the town that’s changed or simply your perspective on the world? In Danton Park, just before you hit the beach, there’s this grassy hill that rises above the town, and there’s a story that long ago it was used as a lookout point. Like a hundred years ago, when the original Danton family lived there. Seems one of its sons left for some adventure, or trip, or futile war, whatever, and he never returned. It still didn’t stop his mother from journeying daily to the hill to keep watch until he came back. There are all sorts of stories from years ago. Danton Hill was a seafaring place, they lost several people to the elements. Speaking of . . .”
    Patch interrupted him. “Gee, Adam, that’s real touching about those soggy old tales, you thinking of jumping into the lake and creating your own legend? Or are you just content to play the prodigal son? Is that wistful mother still waiting on the shores of the great lake?”
    â€œPatch, where’s your romantic side?”
    â€œI banged Susie Cooper last night, does that count?”
    Adam shook his head sadly. “I said romance, not sex.”
    â€œAre you kidding with me with this? Oh wait, let me guess . . .”
    Adam blushed, unable to hide it. “Well, yes, there was this girl . . .”
    â€œAh, geez, isn’t there always,” Patch said. “Adam, do you really want to show up at your high school reunion a current and future failure, looking like a reject from The Bachelorette ? No rose for you. That’s surely the way to impress your old high school sweetheart.”
    â€œOh, the woman in question wasn’t my girlfriend,” he said, a bit wistful, that faraway look once again glossing over his eyes. “I just did her a favor one night, she did me one, too, and . . . well, the way it ended is not the way our story should have ended. There’s unfinished business between us.”
    â€œTwenty years, you still think you can bag her? She’s probably forgotten all about you. And if she has any sense—unlike you—she’ll have the smarts to stay far away from Loser Hill.