Gail nodded. "We can relate to that. So here we all are, back on the farm where the bullshit is good for the garden." She opened the refrigerator and took out the apple and the grape wine that Keith brought, saying to Jeffrey, "Remember this? Eighty-nine cents a bottle. What did you pay for these, Keith?"

"Oh, about four bucks each."

"Robbery," said Jeffrey. He unscrewed the cap of the apple wine and sniffed it. "It's ready." He emptied the bottle into three water tumblers, Gail added sprigs of peppermint, and they touched glasses. Jeffrey said, "To days past, to absent friends of our youth, to ideals and humanity."

Keith added, "And to a bright future without the nightmare of nuclear extinction."

They drained off the wine, put down their glasses, and made exaggerated smacking sounds of pleasure, then laughed. Jeffrey said to Keith, "Actually, not bad. You have any more?"

"No, but I have a source."

Gail said, "I'm getting a buzz." She went to the kitchen table, carrying the grape wine, and sat. Jeffrey brought over the vegetable platter and turned off the lights, then lit two candles on the table.

Keith sat and poured wine for them. They ate the raw vegetables and dip, and Keith praised their gardening abilities, which they took as a high compliment from a farmer's son.

They made small talk for a while, Jeffrey and Keith reminisced about high school, Gail told them they were boring her, and they switched to their senior year at Bowling Green. Gail found a jug of wine and put it on the table. Jeffrey was apparently in charge of stirring and got up now and then to perform this task while Gail kept glasses filled.

Keith was having a good enough time despite the fact that he had little in common with his hosts, except a shared experience in school, even then, he hadn't had much in common with skinny little Jeffrey Porter, though they always got along well in high school, probably because they were intellectual peers, and as teenagers, neither had any opinions about politics, war, or life.

In college, they'd been drawn together at first because they were from the same hometown and had the same problems adjusting to a new environment. In fact, Keith thought, though he wouldn't admit it afterward, they'd become friends.

But as the war radicalized and polarized the campus, they'd found they were on different sides of too many issues. Like the Civil War, the Vietnam War and its attendant upheavals pitted brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, and friend against friend. In retrospect, intelligent people of goodwill should have found common ground. But Keith, like many others, lost old friends that he'd cared for and made new ones that he didn't particularly want. He and Jeffrey had wound up exchanging punches in the middle of the student union building. In truth, Jeffrey wasn't much of a fighter, and Keith had knocked him down only as often as Jeffrey insisted on getting up. Finally, Keith had walked away, and Jeffrey was carried away.

About a year and a half later, Jeffrey had written to Keith in Vietnam, getting his address from Keith's mother, who was happy to give it to one of her son's old friends. Keith had expected the letter to be conciliatory and concerned about Keith's frontline duty, and Keith was preparing a congenial reply in his mind as he opened the letter. Then he read, "Dear Keith, Kill any babies today? Keep score of the women and children you murder. The Army will give you a medal." And so on.

Keith recalled that he hadn't been hurt so much as enraged, and, had Jeffrey been there, Keith would have killed him. Now, looking back, he realized how far along the road to insanity they'd all traveled.

But a quarter century had passed, Jeffrey had apologized and Keith had accepted, and they were both different people, hopefully.

On that thought, Keith couldn't help but think about himself and Annie. She'd gone to graduate school, Europe, married, had children, lived with another man for about two decades, had twenty Christmases, birthdays, anniversaries, and thousands of breakfasts and dinners with him. Keith Landry and Annie Baxter surely had no more in common now than he and Jeffrey had. On the other hand, he hadn't slept with Jeffrey Porter for six years. Keith mulled this over.

Gail said to him, "Yo, Keith! Did you check out?"

"No... I..."

Jeffrey got up and went to the stove. "Ready." He ladled the stew into three bowls and managed to carry them to the table without incident. Gail sliced the bread and said, "Home-baked."

They ate. The bread smelled like things that Keith used to feed to the livestock and horses, but the stew was good.

Dessert was a homemade strawberry pie, which was also good, but the smell of the herbal tea reminded Keith of places in Asia he'd just as soon forget.

Gail said to Keith, "Did Jeffrey tell you I'm on the city council?"

"He did. Congratulations."

"Sure. My opponent got busted blowing somebody in a men's room."

Keith smiled. "Did that become an issue?"

Gail added, "I've blown lots of guys myself, but that's different."

Clearly, everyone was drunk, but, nevertheless, Keith was a little uncomfortable with that remark.

Gail said, "I never got caught in a men's room. Anyway, come November, I'll be facing some prissy country club Republican lady with shit for brains. The worst thing she ever did was wear white after Labor Day."

Jeffrey said, "There are a lot of us who've gotten together to try to turn this town and county around. We've got a plan to restore downtown to its historic look, to attract tourism, attract new business, to stop the spread of the commercial strip through zoning, to get Amtrak to reinstate passenger service, to get a Spencerville exit put on the interstate." Jeffrey went on, outlining the plans to revive Spencerville and Spencer County.

Keith listened, then commented, "So you've scaled back on your plans to overthrow the United States government?"

Jeffrey smiled and replied, "Think globally, act locally. That's the nineties."

"Well," Keith observed, "it sounds like good old-fashioned midwestern boosterism. You remember that word?"

"Sure," Jeffrey said. "But this goes beyond that. We're also interested in ecology, clean government, health care, and other quality-of-life issues that go beyond business and commerce."

"Good. Me, too. In fact, I see what you see here, and I had the same thoughts. But don't assume everyone shares your vision." Keith added, "I've been all over the world, guys, and if I learned one thing, it's that people get the kind of government and society they deserve."

Jeffrey said, "Don't be cynical. This is still a country where good people can make a difference."

"I hope so."

Gail said, "Will you two stop the philosophical debate? Here's the problem we face. The city and county governments have become lethargic, partly corrupt, and mostly stupid." She looked at Keith. "In fact, your ex-girlfriend's husband, Cliff Baxter, is at the core of most of these problems."

Keith did not reply.

Gail continued, "This son-of-a-bitch blackmails people. He's a fucking J. Edgar Hoover clone. The bastard has illegal files on people, including me. He showed me my file, the stupid shit, and I'm going to subpoena all his records now."

Keith looked at her and said, "Be careful with this guy."

They all sat in silence a moment, then Jeffrey said, "He's a bully, and, like all bullies, he's basically a coward."

Keith replied, "Even cowards can be dangerous when they're armed."

Jeffrey nodded. "Yes, but we're not frightened. I've faced armed soldiers with fixed bayonets, Keith."

"Maybe you faced me, Jeffrey. Were you in Philadelphia in the autumn of 1968?"

"No, and we weren't at Kent State when the soldiers fired, but we had friends who were there, and I'll tell you, I would have been there if I'd known what was going to happen."