Their dock was larger than ours but in worse shape. The top of the T was roped off. I saw from the chalky mounds on the boards that the ducks used it as a rest stop. The whole lakefront, for that matter, could do with attention. Even in the shallows there was none of the fine white sand my father replenished every year that made swimming a pleasure. Norma’s lake floor was all muck and sticks, and the ground was swamp, I could tell, from the shoreline to the house. Up close I could see no obvious signs of tree felling. Had I been wrong about that? Maybe they had just trimmed back the branches.

Norma parked me at the wooden picnic table and went to make coffee. That gave me a chance to look around and make friends with Homer, who assumed a sphinxlike dignity at my feet. It was a different lake from here. Whereas we had a view down the entire length, they could see only the stretch of water between their cottage and ours, the rest being hidden by the promontory that separated this lobe from the main body of the lake. It gave them greater privacy but also an oppressive sense of enclosure. Across the water all that could be seen of our house was the point of the roof through the trees. Our dock made a pale line under the green dabs of the chairs. It would be hard to tell what someone was up to there; I could see why Norma had interpreted my arm waving as a call for help.

She appeared with two cups on a tray. We exchanged small talk about the recent cold snap. The sun dipped in and out of halfhearted clouds. A breeze lifted the reddish frizz at Norma’s forehead, causing her to reach up and try to tuck it under her headband. Scattered over the ground were a wagon, a ball and bat, and an assortment of water toys.

“How are the boys?” I asked, wanting to be reminded that she presided over a world unconnected to mine.

“You know. Angels or criminals. Nothing in between.” She sighed. “What would I do without my mother? She’s fantastic with them. They’re a handful. Especially Ben, of course. But then he gets Luke going.”

“Why especially Ben?”

“Benjamin has a lot of issues,” said Norma easily. “Did I mention that? He’s on the spectrum. Pretty far over on the spectrum.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

Norma smiled in a practiced way, to let me know there was no need for awkwardness or pity. “We tried the public school. School doesn’t work out for Ben, at the moment, anyway. There’s a place he goes to half the week.”

“That must be tough.”

“It’s been awful.” She corrected herself: “Quite a journey.”