Jack was silent a moment. Listening more closely he could hear a slight wheeze. Someone was still on the line but deliberately not speaking. Almost half a minute went by before Jack said, “We’re going to be here awhile unless I get a bit more information.”

“It’s one of your oldest and dearest friends.”

The voice was again familiar, but Jack could not quite pin it down. “Since I’ve never had a surplus of friends, this should be an easy task, but it’s not. You have to give me another hint.”

“I was the handsomest, tallest, smartest, most athletic, and most popular of the Three Musketeers!”

“Will wonders never cease,” Jack said, now at ease. “James O’Rourke. Although I can grant you the other less significant qualities, I’m going to contest the tallest.”

James burst out with his familiar high-pitched laugh, which grated on Jack’s nerves like sandpaper on the tips of his fingers, just as it had when they met at Amherst College in the fall of 1973.

“The moment I hear your voice, do you know what I visualize?” James said with another giggle.

“I can’t imagine,” Jack said.

“I see you walking out of Laura Scales House at Smith College, lugging the bust of Laura Scales, with your face as red as mine would have been. It was hilarious.”

“That was because Molly stood me up,” Jack said, quickly defending himself.

“I remember,” James said. “And you did it in broad daylight.”

“I brought it back the next month with great fanfare,” Jack added. “So no harm done.”

“I remember. I was there.”

“And you’re hardly the one to be throwing stones,” Jack said. “I can remember the night you carried out the club chair from Dick inson House at Mount Holyoke College because you were pissed off at . . . what was her name?”

“Virginia Sorenson. Beautiful, sweet Virginia Sorenson! What a doll!” James said with a hint of nostalgia.

“Have you heard from her since—”

“Since I went into the seminary?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I haven’t. She was sweet but hardly understanding.”

“I can see her point, considering how tight you guys were. Do you regret your choice?”

James cleared his throat. “The difficulty of having to make the choice has been a source of both joy and sadness, which I would prefer to discuss over a glass of wine and a roaring fire. I have a place on a lake in northern New Jersey where I’d love to have you and your wife come some weekend.”