“It’s too bad,” said the man. “About it being hard to get into, I mean,” he clarified. “It seems like all the places from that time are gone.”

Ben turned and nodded across the street. “That coffeehouse there, Kalisa’s, that’s where La Ida Café was,” he said. “And the Lone Star brothel, what Steinbeck called the Bear Flag, that was where Mackerel Jack’s is now.”

The man contemplated the two sites. “Not quite the same, is it?” he remarked.

“Well, Kalisa tries,” said Ben. “But I think old Flora Woods would turn over in her grave if she saw her fun house selling T-shirts and plastic otters.”

The man laughed. “You’re a Steinbeck fan,” he said.

“In a roundabout way,” said Ben. “I was an Ed Ricketts fan first. Ever since I read Between Pacific Tides in school. That led me to the Sea of Cortez stuff, and then I thought I better check out Steinbeck and see what all the fuss was about.”

“Usually it’s the other way around,” said the man. “People want to know about Ricketts because they read about Doc in the novels.”

“Well,” said Ben, “I guess writers are more appealing than marine biologists. So what’s your interest in the lab?”

“It’s not so much the lab as it is the man,” the man answered. He looked at Ben. “I’m one of those people who finds himself curious about the real Doc. He was quite an influence on Steinbeck.”

“Best friends,” Ben said. He looked at the run-down building sitting behind the fence. “Those two needed one another.”

“Why do you say that?” asked the man.

“I don’t know,” Ben answered, finding himself surprised at having made the comment. “That just popped out. But now that I’ve said it, it’s true. I don’t think either one would have been the man he was without the other one coming into his life.”

The man looked at him. “You’re an interesting fellow,” he said. “It’s been good talking to you, Mister ...”

“Ransome,” Ben said. “Ben Ransome.”

“Hudson Jones,” the man said, offering his hand. “I appreciate the information. I guess I’m lucky that I bumped into you.”

“If I recall,” Ben said, “I was the one who did the bumping.”

“Well, you’ve more than made up for it,” Hudson told him. “How can I repay you? Maybe a cup of coffee?”

Ben started to protest. Then he thought about returning to his office. He knew he would just sit there and brood. Maybe, he thought, it would do him some good to sit and talk to a complete stranger about something they had in common. If nothing else, it would allow him to put off thinking about Caddie for a little while.

“All right,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind some coffee. Shall we go to Kalisa’s in honor of old Flora?”

“By all means,” Hudson agreed.

A minute later they were seated at a small table, their coffee in front of them. Ben took a sip, then methodically added two and a half packets of sugar to it, followed by two-thirds of one small container of creamer.