Bean thought about it. “I don’t know. Why are you so worried about this crotchety old bird?”

Kenny threw up his arms. “I figure I’m gonna be old some day, you know, an’ I’ll probably be pretty pissed about it myself. C’mon, Charlie.”

“Might as well,” Bean sighed. No one to hurry home to anyway. He slapped Kenny on the shoulder as he passed. “Give the little lady a flourish for me too, you hear?”

“That depends on what’s on TV tonight,” Houter laughed. “See ya, Charlie.”

George Bailey was still staring at the dwindling light at the horizon and didn’t realize the deputy was next to him until he spoke. “I’ve seen prettier sunsets. How about you?”

The old man staggered sideways and crashed into the “Unleaded” pump and would have fallen had Bean not caught him by the arm. “You sneakin’ som’bitch,” Bailey croaked, once he’d cleared the heart from his throat. “What do you want me to do, have a heart attack?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you saw me.”

“Well, I didn’t.” He straightened himself on his cane and sloshed the gas can to make sure the cap was on tight. “Well? What do you want? I’m not under arrest, am I?”

Bean forced a laugh. “No, nothing like that. Kenny tells me there won’t be any cabs available for a while so I thought I’d give you a lift back home.”

Bailey turned his hawkish stare on the patrol car a few feet away, then glanced back at the horizon. The sun had abruptly sank out of sight behind the trees. Without a word he crossed to the car and climbed into the front seat, his sack on his lap and the can between his bony knees. “Well?” he called back. “What are you waiting on, the first snow? I don’t have all night, you know.”

Bean scratched his head and shot a perturbed glance back at Kenny Houter but the attendant wasn’t in view.

“So,” he said as they pulled out of the station and started through town, “did your car run out of gas or what?”

Bailey looked out the window. “Don’t own a car.” He kicked the can with a knee. “Lawn mower. Figure we might have to cut again ’fore it gets really cold. It ain’t me that’s gonna do it, by God. I’m just a gopher. I was going into town anyway, to pick up a few things. But goddammit, nothing’s open. ’Cept the hardware store, thank goodness.” He crunched the sack against him and said, more to himself, “I need these things.”

“What’s in there?”

“Just things.”

“Oh.”

They drove in silence for about a block before Bean started fishing for a conversation again. It was too quiet otherwise, and he was afraid that the old man might slip away when he wasn’t looking and slump dead as a carp against the passenger door. He didn’t need the aggravation. “You’ve been around here a long time, haven’t you?”

“Long enough.”