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station wagon, you know. Then I said what the hell. I drove it up and a big old rotten pine fell on it. The roof of it’s all bashed in. And I thought I’d cut it up ... the tree, I mean . . . but I can’t get my chainsaw to fire up ... I paid two hundred dollars for that sucker . . . and ... and . . .”
    His throat began to emit little clicking sounds. His mouth worked as if he were toothless and chewing dates. For one helpless second I thought he was going to just stand there and bawl like a kid on a sandlot. Then he got himself under some halfway kind of control, shrugged, and turned away as if to look at the chunks of wood I had cut up.
    “Well, we can look at your saw,” I said. “Your T-Bird insured?”
    “Yeah,” he said, “like your boathouse.”
    I saw what he meant, and remembered again what Steff had said about insurance.
    “Listen, Dave, I wondered if I could borrow your Saab and take a run up to town. I thought I’d get some bread and cold cuts and beer. A lot of beer.”
    “Billy and I are going up in the Scout,” I said. “Come with us if you want. That is, if you’ll give me a hand dragging the rest of this tree off to one side.”
    “Happy to.”
    He grabbed one end but couldn’t quite lift it up. I had to do most of the work. Between the two of us we were able to tumble it into the underbrush. Norton was puffing and panting, his cheeks nearly purple. After all the yanking he had done on that chainsaw starter pull, I was a little worried about his ticker.
    “Okay?” I asked, and he nodded, still breathing fast. “Come on back to the house, then. I can fix you up with a beer.”
    “Thank you,” he said. “How is Stephanie?” He was regaining some of the old smooth pomposity that I disliked.
    “Very well, thanks.”
    “And your son?”
    “He’s fine, too.”
    “Glad to hear it.”
    Steff came out, and a moment’s surprise passed over her face when she saw who was with me. Norton smiled and his eyes crawled over her tight T-shirt. He hadn’t changed that much after all.
    “Hello, Brent,” she said cautiously. Billy poked his head out from under her arm.
    “Hello, Stephanie. Hi, Billy.”
    “Brent’s T-Bird took a pretty good rap in the storm,” I told her. “Stove in the roof, he says.”
    “Oh, no!”
    Norton told it again while he drank one of our beers. I was sipping a third, but I had no kind of buzz on; apparently I had sweat the beer out as rapidly as I drank it.
    “He’s going to come to town with Billy and me.”
    “Well, I won’t expect you for a while. You may have to go to the Shop-and-Save in Norway.”
    “Oh? Why?”
    “Well, if the power’s off in Bridgton—”
    “Mom says all the cash registers and things run on electricity,” Billy supplied.
    It was a good point.
    “Have you still got the list?”
    I patted my hip pocket.
    Her eyes shifted to Norton. “I’m very sorry about Carla, Brent. We all were.”
    “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.’
    There was another moment of awkward silence which Billy broke. “Can we go now, Daddy?” He had changed to jeans and sneakers.
    “Yeah, I guess so. You ready, Brent?”
    “Give me another beer for the road and I will be.”
    Steffy’s brow creased. She had never approved of the one-for-the-road philosophy, or of men who drive with a can of Bud leaning against their crotches. I gave her a bare nod and she shrugged. I didn’t want to reopen things with Norton now. She got him a beer.
    “Thanks,” he said to Steffy, not really thanking her but only mouthing a word. It was the way you thank a waitress in a restaurant. He turned back to me. “Lead on, Macduff.”
    “Be right with you,” I said, and went into the living room.
    Norton followed, and exclaimed over the birch, but I wasn’t interested in that or in the cost of replacing the window just then. I was looking at the lake through the sliding glass panel that gave on our deck. The breeze had freshened a little and the day had