There was warm French bread, some Port Salut cheese, and a small brick of pate on offer. I asked if she cooked like this all the time. "There's a Whole Foods down the road in Hillsborough," she said. "If I did this every day I'd be two hundred pounds." "Well, obviously you don't," I said. "I've been letting my own exercise program lapse, and damned if my clothes haven't started shrinking." "Clothes do that," she said. "Okay, we're there." After dinner we sat out on the side screened porch in deference to the mosquitoes of spring. She'd produced a bottle of single malt, much to my delight. I can drink wine, but I'm not a big fan. She switched to Scotch to keep me company, and I noticed she drank it neat, as I did. Kitty joined us on the porch, calm as always. "She keeps you in sight, doesn't she," Carol said. "That's her job," I said. "She's not as aggressive or knowledgeable as Frick and Frack, but she's learning." We talked about the shepherds for a while, and then about the restoration business.
