It rang five times before I hung up. If he’d been there I could have told him all about the excitement of the last hour. I could have told the recording device on his phone if he had one, but Ray must be the last guy in the world to hold out against the electronic age. That reminded me of another hold out. I phoned my mother in Grantham. “Hello?” “Ma, it’s me, Benny.” “You’re back? You just left town. You can’t be home already.” “No, I’m still up here. Looks like I’ll be here for another week.” “I see. So, you’re having a good time up there, Benny?” “My nose is peeling. I miss your cooking.” “Canned salmon you can get in any store, Benny. I’ll melt in this heat. Benny, you remember the last time you were up in the woods? Camp Northern Pine?” “A little.” “You remember the load of rocks you brought home?” “Ma, I was ten years old. What do you want from a ten-year-old? Handmade moccasins? Besides, they weren’t rocks, they were quartz.
