“Best move I ever made, other than getting out of the city. I think I may have a small exhibit down in Woodstock this fall. It’s being talked.”

“An exhibit?” I said. “Good.”

Dan handed Sammy his coffee and refilled my cup. He looked at me and winked. “I’ve been telling Sammy he should open his own studio. Redo that old drugstore. Get the right person behind it and this place could be another Woodstock in a few years. We’re right off the main highway.”

Sammy blushed slightly. “I don’t think I’m the right one for that.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sounds like a good idea to me. We used to go over to Woodstock all the time.” I thought of Lila. Lila would kill me, and Dan, if she knew we were encouraging Sammy to expand his dreams.

Sammy tasted the coffee. He tilted his head back and stretched the muscles of his neck as a tired man does. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” I suggested.

“I could use the business,” Dan added. “So could the Inn.”

“Yeah, well, it sounds good, but like I said, I just don’t know,” Sammy mused. Then, to me: “Sorry to hear about your friend, Bobo. We thought you’d probably be coming up when we read about his death.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You remember that old man, Dan?” asked Sammy.

“We were talking about him before you came in,” Dan said. “Yeah, I saw him a few times. Carla Jarvis used to work at the Home. She’d bring him down once in a while, even after he got past a hundred. Sometimes he’d come in here, but most of the time all he’d do was sit on that bench. Carla would come in and get coffee and stand at the door and watch him. Said she never knew what he might do next.”

I agreed: “That was Avrum, especially in his later years.”

“Lila mentioned you were going to have a memorial service for him,” Sammy said.

“On Thursday,” I told him.

Sammy sat forward suddenly. An earnest, inspired expression was on his face. “You know, Bobo, I’ve got a piece I finished about a month ago. Took me a long time to figure it out. I call it the Old Man. I’d be honored to dedicate it to your friend and let you use it for the service.”

Dan smiled at me sympathetically and walked away with the coffee pot. I could feel my face mugging the pretense of serious consideration. “That’s kind of you, Sammy,” I said. Sammy twitched modestly. “No, it is,” I insisted. “But, to tell you the truth, I don’t know what kind of service it’s going to be. Not at the moment, at least. I’m going to work on it tonight.”