“He can get that at the Inn,” Sammy snorted.

“This is coffee, Sammy, not chicory,” Dan replied.

Sammy extended his hand in greeting and I took it. “He’s lying, Bobo. You know that, don’t you?”

“How’s that, Sammy?” I asked.

“He buys my leftover grind and runs hot water over it and gives it those shitty exotic names and overcharges for it.” Sammy laughed at his own joke, then added, “So, how are you, Bobo?”

“Good, Sammy. And you?”

“Never been better,” he answered enthusiastically. He pulled a chair from another table and sat.

“You want a cup of your leftover grind, Sammy?” asked Dan.

“Why not?” Sammy said. “And give me Bobo’s bill. It’s on me.”

I did not want to be put in debt of Sammy’s generosity. I said, “Oh, no, Sammy. I’ve got it. You want something to eat?”

“Eat? Here? Jesus, Bobo, I do have a little respect for my body.”

“Yeah. Shit,” Dan said. He struggled from his chair and wandered away to get Sammy’s coffee.

I knew Sammy was excited. His thin, fierce face was flushed with energy. His eyes were shining like the surface of a blue lake when the wind is skimming it. I could see perspiration at his hairline and rock dust in his long, pulled-back hair. His smile was a child’s smile

“Lila tells me you’ve been busy,” I said.

“Like a goddamn one-armed paperhanger, Bobo,” Sammy replied cheerfully. “Damn, I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking about you a couple of weeks ago. Thought I’d take some shots of the pieces I’ve been working on and send them down to you, but this is better. You get a firsthand look.”

I swallowed. “I’m looking forward to it, Sammy.”

“Did Lila tell you I’d rented the old Ellis Drug Store?” he asked.

“She did,” I said. “Good idea. You needed a place. That back room at the Inn was getting a little crowded.”

“Crowded? Bobo, I couldn’t think in there anymore,” Sammy said profoundly. “That was my trouble, and that’s what I’ve discovered about my work. It’s a breakthrough. Art is thinking, Bobo. All that waiting around for inspiration is bullshit. You’ve got to think it through, and I was too crowded to think. You have to have the right place to work, but, hell, you know that. I got to stumbling over stuff in that back room and I knew I had to bust up all that junk and sell it for gravel, or move out. I got a great deal on Arch’s old place, so that’s where I am. Took my tools and my rocks and started over, but this time I can think, and that’s the key. I guaran-damn-tee you all the great ones have been thinkers, from Michelangelo to Norman Rockwell.”

“Well, it sounds good,” I said.