Hudson tipped the bottle and watched as the whiskey poured onto the grass, where it was sucked up by the earth. “Here’s to you, Ed,” he said.

He took a sip from the bottle, then handed it to Ben, who drank as well. Ben held the bottle out. “Want to leave him the rest?” he asked.

Hudson took the bottle and set it on the ground, leaning it against the marble wall of the columbarium. “Enjoy it, buddy,” he said, patting the plaque that marked where the ashes of Ed Ricketts were interred. He stood and looked at Ben. “We should have poured more for John,” he said. “There’s still a lot left.”

Ben put his arm around him. “I’m sure they’re sharing it,” he said.

They walked together through the rows of graves in the Cementerio El Encinal. “Flora Woods is down that way,” said Ben. “Want to stop by and say hello?”

“She’s probably busy,” Hudson said. “Let’s leave her alone.”

They walked, connected where Ben’s hand rested on Hudson’s waist, through the quiet cemetery. Dusk was blooming, turning the oak trees that gave the place its name into giant, mute sentries keeping watch from the shadows. On three sides of them the green lawn of El Estero Park, and the lake beyond, separated the graveyard from the rest of the city, creating an island of the dead amidst the roads and houses. It would be, Hudson thought as he looked about him, a good place to spend eternity.

Earlier they had payed a visit to Salinas and Steinbeck’s grave in the cloyingly named Garden of Memories. Unlike his friend, Steinbeck was buried in the ground, or at least beneath a concrete slab containing the graves of several other relations. Hudson and Ben had sat on its edge, paying their respects, splashing the whiskey they’d brought as an offering over the plaque bearing Steinbeck’s name.

Now, exiting the Cementerio El Encinal, Hudson felt a door shutting behind him. He’d said good-bye to the two men who had been, along with Paul, the center of his life for so long. He thought he should be—almost felt he should be—sadder than he was. Instead, he found it a fitting end to their relationship. Having thanked them for their friendship and drunk to their health, he was leaving them to their rest.

“I guess that’s it,” he said to Ben. “For that part of my life, anyway.”

“Not quite,” said Ben. “We have one more stop.” He looked at Hudson with a mysterious smile, and try as he might, Hudson couldn’t get him to tell him what his secret was.